Blurred
by CrimsonRegret478
Summary: "He doesn't remember me. He doesn't remember anyone. But I can't bring myself to hate him. He's just a child." Alfred has lost his memory, leaving only Arthur bring his American back. USxUK, Mpreg, Human names used, AU, M for language.
1. Loss

**Hey everyone! This is my very first Hetalia fic so I hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it! Constructive Criticism is appreciated but flames are not.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia (yet)**

**Warning(s): none, just angst, angst, and more angst. Or at least I attempted to make it that way.**

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><p><strong>Blurred<strong>

**Chapter One**

**Loss**

Arthur tapped his foot impatiently, he twiddled his thumbs, he ran his hands through his unkempt blonde hair- he did anything and everything to keep himself occupied… to keep him from having a total breakdown. The Englishman was worried and it was to the point where it was almost unhealthy. It took every ounce of his being to fight the urge to cry as the horrible images of the accident replayed in his head like some kind of sick horror movie.

The burning building…

The explosion…

The blood…

Alfred's blood…

It seeped out of the protective helmet Alfred had worn and stained his sandy blonde hair, turning it a sickly brown. The other firemen dragged Alfred's unconscious form away from the burning building before another explosion of flame and shards of glass rained down upon them.

Only after spending ten minutes of convincing the officer that he was with Alfred did Arthur run to his lover's side, taking it all in; the American wasn't at all in horrible physical condition- minor scratches, bruises, and soot marked his tan skin.

But the blood… oh, the blood…

That was what worried Arthur the most, even after the paramedics had gotten the situation well under control. On the way to the hospital, Arthur held onto Alfred's hand for dear life, refusing to let go. There was no way that the Englishman was going to give up hope.

There was no way in hell.

"Mr. Kirkland?"

The doctor's voice brought the blonde man from his thoughts. Said Englishman immediately stood up, waiting to hear the best… or worst.

"Mr. Jones is out of the woods. He's safe," the doctor, now known as Dr. Richards after Arthur had read his name plate, announced.

Arthur released the breath he didn't realize he was holding.

"However," Richards continued, and this made Arthur's blood run cold, "the blow to the head affected his memory greatly. The right side of his brain didn't suffer too much damage but enough to make a difference. I'd taken the liberty of asking him simple questions such as the date, where he was, what had happened, who you were, etc. The most information he knew was his name."

The personification for England felt the ground shift beneath his feet and his heart jump into his throat. Amnesia. One of the worst things that could possibly happen besides death. Hell, Alfred may as well have been dead.

"He is awake if you want to see him but don't be hasty. You'll only scare him," the doctor said.

Arthur gave a simple nod as his response, fearing if he said anything he would have a total meltdown. And this was neither the time nor the place to have such a reaction. The brunette doctor led Arthur into the room and the Englishman watched as Alfred looked out the window and into the city, staring at the towering skyscrapers and the zooming cars. The moonlight that was leaking into the hospital room lit the man's face perfectly, making Alfred more beautiful than he already was.

"Alfred?" Richards broke the silence and the American perked to attention.

Deep emeralds met with oceanic sapphires as the younger of the two eyed him curiously.

"Who are you?" Alfred wondered, his head tilting to the side a bit and his hair favored the right slightly.

The hurt was evident in Arthur's eyes the second those words left those beautiful soft lips, the lips he had the privilege of kissing time and time again. He looked at Alfred right in the eyes as they gazed at him with the utmost curiosity. Arthur had expected this question the pain made sure the Englishman knew it was there by clawing at his heart, threatening to rip it open at the seams.

A feigned smile danced across Arthur's face, "I'm Arthur Kirkland. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"It's nice to meet you, too. I'm Alfred Jones," the American smiled innocently, unaware of the fact that with each word he spoke, he was tearing Arthur apart piece by piece.

"Mr. Jones, Mr. Kirkland is going to be staying with you and help you at home," Dr. Richards chimed in, cutting the tension of the atmosphere.

"But I can take care of myself!" Alfred protested, the determination evident in his eyes.

"Mr. Kirkland is just there to make sure you're recovering well, okay? Besides, I'm sure you two will become great friends," Dr. Richards smiled.

That defiant look turned into Alfred's trademark grin, the one that could light up an entire room the one that could bring a smile to anyone's face… the one that could be the death of Arthur.

"You are free to go in about a day or so. Until then, try to rest. I'll have a nurse check on you in a few hours," and with that, the doctor exited the room in haste, as if to escape the strain in the room.

Now the former lovers were left in an awkward silence, neither wanting to speak but yet had a million things to say to the other. Arthur sighed and sat in a chair in the far corner of the room. Had it all been a mistake? Had Alfred's choice of moving to England been a huge blunder? If Alfred hadn't chosen to leave his home country and stay with Arthur, he wouldn't be in this fix. He would still be the same loud, obnoxious, outgoing, loving git he had been.

"Arthur?" Alfred's voice shattered the reticence.

Said blonde looked up and watched as concern began to paint itself along Alfred's handsome features.

"A-are you okay?" Alfred wondered.

Was that… unease leaking into the American's tone?

"Yes, I'm fine, Alfred. You should rest like the doctor said. You want to leave as soon as possible, don't you?" Arthur spoke with a tone as if he was talking to a child. And… Alfred sort of was in a sense. At least mentally.

The American was now acting introverted and nervous, something the man never was. Stranger anxiety- something that toddlers go through when around others. Sure, Alfred had always been a kid at heart but the fact that he truly was going to act like a child was a bit difficult for Arthur to wrap his mind around.

Alfred had no clue as to who he was… or _had _been. Arthur had to understand that. The younger man was confused, that's all. And it was up to Arthur to comfort him and help him remember who he was. The Englishman just hoped that it wouldn't drive him to depression or insanity first.

Yes…

Arthur would help the American through this.

He didn't have much of a choice anyhow.

Alfred nodded and buried himself underneath the covers; he fondly scrutinized Arthur's every move as the Englishman strolled over to the light switch and flicked it off. The personification for England sat back in his chair and gladly let sleep embrace him after Alfred had fallen asleep as well.

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><p><strong>Arthur: Crimson, what the hell?<strong>

**Me: -smiles nervously- Sorry, Artie..**

**Alfred: -oblivious to the atmosphere- Please review! It makes Crimson happy!**


	2. Home

**Second chapter, yay! Hopefully I did well with it! Enjoy! :)**

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><p><strong>Blurred<strong>

**Chapter Two**

**Home**

Alfred was quite happy yet nervous to be discharged the hospital. Leaving the hospital meant he would be going to Arthur's house. No, it wasn't that Alfred didn't like the Englishman. In fact, he found that the tea lover was quite nice. But he was just a tad bit edgy about going outside. There were so many people! He figured it would be very easy to get lost and that was what Alfred was afraid of.

For some odd reason, he felt drawn to Arthur, as if they had known each other for a long time. And even without that sensation, Alfred had already trusted the Englishman the minute they met. Others would've looked down on this, saying that it wasn't safe (or reasonable, for that matter) but Alfred didn't see the harm. Arthur was nice to him so he must be a good person, right?

I wonder what Arthur's home looks like… is it big? Does he live in the city or out in the country? Those questions and questions of the like swam around in Alfred's mind as he put on his bomber jacket to protect him from the chilly November air. A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts.

"Alfred? Are you decent?"

It was Arthur.

"Um, yes, come on in," Alfred replied, looking at himself in the mirror. The faint click of the door opening made Alfred jump a little. Was he decent enough? Well, the clothes Arthur had brought him seemed fine.

"Am I decent?" Alfred spun around a little so Arthur could see all of him.

_Ah, he took it literally,_ Arthur thought with a sad smile. The beige long sleeved shirt fit Alfred's well defined body nicely and the jacket complemented it; dark blue jeans and black sneakers finished the outfit. Alfred looked at Arthur expectantly, waiting to hear his approval.

"Alfred, it was a figure of speech. When I asked if you were decent, I meant if you were dressed," Arthur continued to have that small smile, finding Alfred's obliviousness adorable.

"Oh okay," Alfred nodded, understanding.

"Here, this'll help keep you warm. We don't need you catching cold now, do we?" Arthur reached up to the slightly taller man and wrapped a scarf around his neck.

Alfred gazed at the Englishman curiously, watching his every move, soaking it up like a sponge.

"Let's get going, shall we?" Arthur headed towards the door and Alfred immediately followed the blonde man out of the hospital and attempted to hide behind Arthur once the bustling sounds of London met his ears.

"It's all right, Alfred," the Brit smiled.

As if on pure instinct, Alfred grabbed onto the sleeve of Arthur's jacket. The American found comfort in this as they walked down the busy sidewalk.

This earned stares from the people they passed by but Arthur simply ignored them and kept at a steady pace so Alfred could keep up. The Englishman would periodically look back and see that Alfred's eyes were darting everywhere nervously and he was biting his lip.

He was extremely uncomfortable.

Why were they staring?

He didn't like them staring…

"Pay them no mind, Alfred. Just ignore them," Arthur said, throwing back a reassuring smile.

Alfred nodded and kept his eyes downcast, avoiding the eyes of all but Arthur's. He found the sidewalk more interesting anyways. When they stopped walking, Alfred was a little more than puzzled. It was cold outside and the chilly November air bit at his skin constantly. Why had they stopped?

"A-Arthur, why did we stop?" Alfred asked, shaking a bit.

"We need to ride the bus home. I had to ride the bus over here to see you," he lied.

"Oh okay," Alfred was content with that answer.

Arthur's eyes shot up to the sky once he spotted the clouds beginning to roll over London. This storm was going to be one for the books. The Englishman paused. Was there really that much turmoil in his heart? Were the thunders of agony and the rains of sorrow causing havoc? By the looks of this storm, he didn't doubt it.

Alfred inched closer to Arthur when he noticed the ominous clouds. He didn't like the looks of this… he didn't know what it was… and that frightened him. The American was a little disenchanted when he couldn't see the setting sun anymore now that it was replaced by the gray mass building up in the sky.

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><p>It was already a little ways into the evening by the time they had arrived at Arthur's home in Aldershot, an urban town about 37 miles southwest of London. It would've taken a much shorter time hadn't the bus stopped for numerous people that had boarded.<p>

The rain was no longer rain- it was a torrential downpour and it soaked both Arthur and Alfred to the bone. The American shivered violently in his saturated clothing, too cold to even remove any of the garments. Arthur hurried to remove the man's scarf and jacket and rushed him upstairs, trying to find a large wool blanket to warm him in.

"I'm going to find a blanket. In the meantime, I want you to change clothes. Your… undergarments are in the top left drawer. I'll find you some clothes to wear when I come back. I won't be gone long," Arthur quickly left the room and damn near ran down the hall.

Alfred did as he was told and was changed by the time Arthur had come back, dressed in nothing but his boxers. Arthur wrapped the large blanket around Alfred, rubbing his shoulders hard to try and speed up the warming process. A light shade of red tinted Alfred's cheeks and his hair was still dripping.

"Blast all. I completely forgot about that," Arthur sighed, going into the bathroom to grab a towel. When he turned back around, the American had a zoned out look on his face, as if he was deep in thought.

"Alfred? Are you all right?"

"Um, yes, I'm okay," Alfred answered timidly.

So quiet.

So nervous.

So… unlike Alfred.

The Briton was about to reach up to dry Alfred's hair when he let out a light sigh, remembering the height difference. "Alfred, you're too tall. I can't reach."

"Oh, sorry," Alfred sat on the bed and allowed Arthur to dry his hair. The Briton discarded the towel into the hamper and just watched as Alfred hid himself underneath that blanket, trying desperately to find warmth. Arthur felt a slight pang in his chest and went to sit beside the shivering American.

As if on cue, Alfred scooted closer to the shorter blonde, being drawn to him not only because of the warmth but because of the comfort that seemed to radiate off of Arthur. A content sigh escaped Alfred's lips as he began to feel better.

He didn't know why but this felt so… right.

"This will be your room, Alfred," Arthur opened the door to one of the many rooms on the second floor of his home. "I'm just down the hall so if you need anything, just come and get me, okay?"

Alfred nodded, examining the rather large room. The chamber wasn't at all over luxurious, but it was still pretty spacey. A king sized bed with forest green linen sheets was to his left and a divan was placed by the window, giving one the perfect view of the town and the moon that cast its beautiful glow on them. Curtains hung from the window on both sides and a desk was adjacent to the bed.

The American slid into the comfortable bed, now starting to doubt if he wanted to stay here alone during this storm. Alfred placed his glasses on the nightstand beside the bed, his vision hindered only slightly. Arthur sat on the bed and ran his fingers through Alfred's sandy hair in hopes of comforting the American.

"Get some sleep, all right? We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow. Pleasant dreams," Arthur threw a small smile towards Alfred before taking his leave.

Alfred closed his eyes and did his best to sleep but the rain pelting on the window made it difficult to fall into sleep's embrace.

_SLAM!_

_Alfred's eyes shot open at the sound, wondering where it had come from. He examined the area. He was in the living room of Arthur's home, everything still arranged as it was. The thumping of footsteps could be heard racing down the stairs and Alfred froze. A younger version of himself was standing there, carrying what looked like a suitcase in hand and a jacket in the other. His younger self couldn't be any more than sixteen or seventeen._

_The image kept fading in and out of focus and the older Alfred's head was pounding._

_"Alfred, wait!" that was Arthur. Said Englishman was hot on the teen's heels, looking infuriated… or was that desperation?_

_"Look, Arthur. I'm no longer a child or you little brother," Alfred said, though his words had the effect the teen wanted. Arthur looked crushed._

_"Don't leave," Arthur pleaded._

_"Sorry. It doesn't change anything," Alfred slammed the door, the noise sounding more like a gunshot._

"NO!" Alfred screamed.

"Alfred! Alfred, wake up!"

"No! No! No!" the American repeated, grabbing at his hair, the pillow, anything he could get his hands on.

"Alfred, wake up! It's only a dream," Arthur soothed, bringing Alfred close to him. "Shh, everything's all right now. It was only a dream, love. It was just a dream."

The American sobbed into Arthur's chest, holding onto the Brit for dear life. Arthur ran his fingers through the younger man's hair, seeming to be the only thing that brought the boy consolation. The Englishman began to rub small circles on Alfred's back and humming a lullaby softly (1). Alfred's muscles started to unwind almost immediately, finding the actions appeasing.

Arthur continued this routine until Alfred's soft snoring filled his ears. The Brit gently set Alfred on the bed again and stared at his sleeping figure with yearning and love. He benevolently brushed the American's hair from his eyes, Nantucket still stubbornly defying gravity. Arthur placed a tender kiss on Alfred's temple.

"Rest peacefully, love," he whispered, leaving once more.

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><p>Oceanic eyes flittered open, hazily gazing around the room. A flash of lightning illuminated the room and it was followed suit by a clap of thunder. The American nearly jumped out of his skin at this, and ran down the hall, ignoring the fact that he could hardly see where he was going without his glasses.<p>

He came to a stop at Arthur's door, panting slightly. Placing his hand on the brass knob, Alfred slowly opened the door and caught sight of a slumbering Englishman, although it was a bit indistinct. Being the light sleeper that he was, Arthur stirred and sat up, his eyes meeting with the unrealistic blue of Alfred's eyes.

"Alfred? Love, what's wrong?" the Englishman asked sleepily.

"There's umm a leak in my bedroom. The water keeps dripping on my face… do you think I could stay in here tonight and then get a new room tomorrow?" Alfred didn't make eye contact with Arthur as the American lied.

_So that's the problem. He's scared,_ Arthur thought solemnly.

"All right, but just for tonight," the Brit pat the empty spot next to him, inviting Alfred.

The American nearly ran to the area offered to him and scampered into the bed, and gazed out the window at the rain that streamed down the window in a flood. Once believing that Alfred had gone to sleep, Arthur once again lay back down; he was trying desperately to let sleep take over but the bloody storm wasn't allowing that happen.

"Arthur?" Alfred whispered.

"Yes, Alfred?"

"Will I ever get my memories back?" the American asked with the perfect innocence of a child.

"I… can't say at the moment, Alfred," Arthur replied, feeling guilt tug at his heart.

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><p><strong>I hope you enjoyed! Feel free to review! They give me inspiration to write more! :)<strong>

**(1) The lullaby that England was singing to younger America when they first met**


	3. Meeting

**Yet, another chapter! I would just like to thank those who added my story to their favorites list and story alerts list and reviewed! It is much appreciated! Please continue to give me feedback! I thorougly enjoy it :)**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia and if I did... *chuckles* You don't want to know.**

**Warnings: Angst, light USxUK, and a little surprise at the end ;)**

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><p><strong>Blurred<strong>

**Chapter Three**

**Meeting**

Quick knocks at the door caused Alfred's sweet slumber to be agitated. As the sunlight trickled into the room through the curtains, the knocking became more persistent. The American vigilantly slipped out of bed, being extra careful so as not to disturb the sleeping Briton next to him.

Alfred hesitantly strolled to the front door, mulling this over. He really should let Arthur answer it. After all, this was his house. But he thought it rude to disturb Arthur and leave whoever it was outside waiting. The American went with the latter, gulping nervously before slowly opening the door.

"Yes?" he said meekly.

Two men stood before him: both blonde, both had the same azure eyes he had, but the only difference was one was wearing glasses and looked strangely similar to him.

"Al?" the one with glasses whispered in disbelief.

"Y-Yeah?" Alfred backed up a little bit, unsure of what was going to happen.

"Alfred! You're okay!"

The American was brought into a hug by his clone, and tears began to stream down the second's face. Alfred hadn't the slightest idea what was going on. Who were these people?

"Umm… uh…" Alfred's voice became a little louder, not returning the embrace. His cheeks were tinted a light red from confusion and maybe a bit of embarrassment. Why he was embarrassed he hadn't a clue.

"Amerique? Is everything all right? Where's Angleterre?" the man that had accompanied his clone asked.

"Who? Who's Angle…" Alfred trailed off, having much difficulty in pronouncing the word. "Who are you two?"

The visitors' eyes went wide with shock.

"Al, it's me, Matthew. Your brother," his clone placed his hands softly on the American's shoulders.

"Brother…?" Alfred tested the word. As far as he knew, he didn't have a brother. But then again, the doctor did say he had… what was that word he used again? The American pushed that thought aside and studied the one who claimed to be his brother long and hard.

The resemblance between the two was definitely there. Alfred suddenly felt bad. This man was his brother and he didn't even remember him. He must really be a horrible brother…

"I-I'm sorry… I don't remember you," Alfred's eyes shifted to the floor and his fingers began fidgeting with the hem of his gray shirt.

"What do you mean you don't remember?" the other with the heavy accent questioned calmly, taking note of the obvious tense behavior that was practically emitting from the American in waves. "It's us, Francis and Matthew."

"I'm sorry, I just… can't," the guilt began crashing against Alfred in strong surges. This was too much. The confusion and shame began to fuse together, making his head swim and bringing tears to his eyes. He felt awful, he truly did. What kind of person forgets his own friends?

"He has amnesia," another voice chimed in and it was one he recognized.

"Arthur!" Alfred's voice was full of relief as he went to the Englishman's side. And said Englishman did not look happy.

"What are you doing here, frog?" Arthur demanded as he crossed his arms, his eyes becoming as cold as green ice. "Oh, hello, Matthew," the Brit used a much kinder tone when addressing Alfred's brother.

Matthew nodded, "Hello, Arthur."

"What a silly question to ask, Angleterre. We came to see you and Alfred- just to check on how you two were holding up," Francis answered with a small smile… or was it a smirk?

"Arthur, please. What's going on? What's wrong with Alfred?" Matthew decided to get straight to the point and not beat around the bush.

"Now, Alfred, we mustn't be rude to our guests. They came all this here to meet you. Introduce yourself, please," Arthur paid no mind to Matthew's question at the moment and chastised the man beside him gently.

The American visibly stiffened but stretched out his hand for the others to shake, "I'm Alfred F. Jones. It's nice to meet you…"

The personification for Canada shook Alfred's hand first, rid of the whole awkwardness of this encounter. "I'm Matthew Williams. It's a pleasure to meet you, too."

Francis followed soon after Matthew had finished, "I am Francis Bonnefoy and I assure you, the pleasure is all mine." The Frenchman ended this sentence with a smile.

A smile began to tug at the corner of Alfred's lips before it finally revealed itself.

"Now, Arthur, please," Matthew looked back at the Briton.

"Like I said before: amnesia. He doesn't remember anyone," Arthur said it nonchalantly, as if they were talking about the weather so as not to concern the American in the room.

Matthew and Francis came to a standstill. The Canadian bit his lip in distress, trying to compose himself. He had finally been acknowledged by his brother and now that was all out the window. He was invisible again. What worried him even more was that his brother had been in such a horrible accident that his memory had suffered the consequences.

Francis had noticed that Alfred was being very apprehensive and calm, much unlike his old personality. He watched as the American remained quiet at Arthur's side and was playing with his hands and stared at his lap… like a punished child. "Arthur, would care to enlighten us?"

Arthur.

The Frenchman never called Arthur by his first name unless he was serious. And by the looks of those frigid blue eyes peering at him behind the golden locks that framed his face… he was dead serious. Matthew was staring at him with eyes akin to Francis's but somehow the Canadian's gaze was more intense.

Arthur sighed and stood, "Come with me."

This action earned a very curious look from the American that was seated beside him and said American caught Arthur's sleeve in a silent plea to not leave him.

"Don't worry, Alfred. Just stay here and watch TV for a little bit," Arthur placed his hand on Alfred's head and tousled his hair a bit.

"We're just going to speak with Arthur for a second, okay? No reason to worry," Matthew assured his brother.

Alfred nodded slowly, trusting these two not to bring any harm to Arthur. The American stared at the television and picked up the remote and skipped through the channels, none of the programs really catching his interest. He was concentrating on what was going on in the other room. Arthur seemed comfortable around them so he should be, too.

He just… didn't want anything bad to happen to Arthur.

He liked Arthur.

The Englishman was really nice.

Alfred finally gave up and left it on a random channel and began to toy with the cuff of his sleeve. He brought his legs to his chest and wrapped his arms around them.

_If Arthur trusts them… then I should, too,_ Alfred thought. The American brought his attention to the television. It had landed on a science fiction show, and of course it was one he couldn't recognize, but he was unable to concentrate on it. He sighed. He found this restlessness owing to Arthur's absence.

In the kitchen, Arthur had sat down with a fresh cup of tea made in his hand and he placed it on the table. He then lost his desire for it and just held his hands around it, allowing the mug to warm his hands and stared at the steam rising from the liquid.

"So, Angleterre," Francis reverted back to Arthur's original nickname, "explain."

"Please tell us, Arthur," Matthew added.

The Englishman exhaled and looked at the blonde men sitting at his flanks. "All right. A few days ago, Alfred was called out to replace one of the firemen that were supposed to be on duty but had skipped out. He was so determined that he'd come back safely, that… he would be the hero…"

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><p><em>"Alfred, I don't like the looks of this… I have a bad feeling," Arthur sighed, gripping the fireproof material of the uniform all firemen were required to wear. The Englishman didn't want his beloved to go.<em>

_"Don't worry, Arthur. I'll be back before you know it. After all, I'm the hero. I've gotta do my job," Alfred ended his sentence with a beaming smile and kissed his lover passionately. "Wait for me. And I'll return. That's a promise."_

_Arthur couldn't shake off the unbearable clenching in his stomach… in his heart. He was so worried, he was almost positive that London would suffer. The Englishman couldn't take it anymore. Arthur sat on the couch and turned on the television, desperate to find out what was going on._

_The blonde couldn't have changed the channel to the news station fast enough and his face was transfixed with horror as he saw the flames licking at the building and the firemen racing in and out of the building as their comrades drenched the structure with the water spraying ferociously from the hose._

_Arthur felt as if he was living in slow motion as he sped to the scene, intent on getting the American out of there. But a small voice in the back of his head asked him, what could he do? Charge into the burning building, determined to locate Alfred? He wouldn't make it an inch past the authorities. The Englishman was rushing into this situation blindly._

_He parked his car along the curb, fighting through the crowd that had gathered to observe the heroic actions of the men that were giving their lives. He reached the front of the group, trying to reason with the officer that was holding him back that he was with Alfred._

_"I'm sorry, sir, but you are not allowed past this point!" the officer was hell-bent on keeping Arthur back._

_"No, I have to go to him!" the Englishman protested._

_His emerald eyes widened when he saw that two firemen were dragging Alfred by his arms away from the collapsing edifice. They carefully placed the American on the gurney and the paramedic removed his helmet. That's when Arthur caught sight of it. The blood. That hot and sticky liquid was staining the trolley a nauseating crimson._

_"Alfred!" the Englishman called, pleading to himself that his lover heard him._

_"A-Arthur…" Alfred rasped, drifting in and out of unconsciousness._

_One of the paramedics made eye contact with the officer and gave a short nod and returned to his work on stopping the bleeding. Said officer released Arthur and the Briton ran to Alfred's side, scanning for further injuries (not that there was anything he could've done about it)._

_"Arthur…" the American whispered through gritted teeth, ignoring the constant throb in his head and the cloudy filter that began to obscure his vision._

_"I'm here, love. I'm here," Arthur took his lover's hand in his as tears started to brim his eyes._

_Alfred gave a light chuckle, "Wait for me… I'll return." After those words, the American fell into total darkness, his memories slipping through his fingers._

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><p>Francis and Matthew listened intently as Arthur finished, the Englishman's knuckles turning white from gripping the teacup tightly.<p>

"I see… I'm so sorry, Angleterre," Francis broke the stillness that had settled in the room.

"It's fine, really. All I need to do is to help him remember. It'll be easier said than done but I'm sure I can manage. However, I've been feeling a little under the weather lately and with all the meetings, this'll take longer than I would like for it to," Arthur said with a sigh and pushed his cup back now that the tea had gone cold.

"Don't worry, Arthur. We'll help. You don't have to do this alone," Matthew smiled, forever being the optimistic one. Arthur couldn't help but return it but was suddenly struck with a queasy feeling that he knew all too well. The Briton rushed to the sink and disposed of his stomach's contents.

Francis swiftly moved to Arthur's side, pushing back the Brit's hair. The Englishman would've tore himself away if a coughing fit hadn't taken over and he continued to lean into the sink despite the pungent stench of vomit made him wish he lost his sense of smell.

"Check on Alfred," Arthur ordered in between coughs.

The Canadian bolted from the kitchen to try and keep Alfred at bay until Arthur had given him the word that it was all right for his lover to enter the room.

"Are you all right, Angleterre?" Francis asked with deep concern.

"I'm fine," Arthur panted now that he could breathe normally. "This is what I've meant by 'under the weather.' I've been throwing up constantly."

"Well… did you cook?" Francis attempted to joke but this only gained him a harsh scowl from the Briton next to him.

"I can't let Alfred see me like this. He'll have a panic attack. He's already attached to me at the hip," Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose in irritation, still leaning against the countertop for support due to the fact that his legs felt like jelly. A cold drop of sweat trailed down Arthur's flushed face from his earlier exertions as he felt another roll of nausea.

"What do you need us to do?" Francis questioned.

"Keep him distracted. I need to get this cleaned up," Arthur answered, wiping the sweat that had accumulated on his forehead.

"Matthew can handle that. Just do what you need to do," Francis ventured into the living room to handle Alfred while the Canadian returned to the kitchen and started to clean the sink much to Arthur's relief.

"Thank you, Matthew," Arthur left the area and hurried to his room, nearly slipping past Alfred but stopped mid-step when the American called out to him.

"Stay here with Francis. I'll be back down shortly," Arthur responded and resumed his task of climbing the stairs. Alfred detected the thin sheet of sweat that covered Arthur's face and the tired look in his eyes.

The Briton had a sneaking suspicion as to why he was sick and didn't want to share his theory with the other two. Could it be…? No, it couldn't be… it just wasn't possible. Upon entering the upstairs bathroom, he hastily opened the medicine cabinet and stared at the item on the shelf.

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><p>Alfred waited impatiently for Arthur's return. Francis wouldn't tell him what was wrong with his caretaker and this caused the American to worry even more. He didn't want anything bad to happen to Arthur. He needed to know if the Briton was okay and it had already been ten minutes.<p>

Alfred glanced up at Francis who had his nose in the morning newspaper and listened for Matthew in the kitchen. Maybe could make it to Arthur's room without being seen… The American stood from his place on the couch and was attempting to go upstairs and much to Alfred's dismay, Francis asked of his intentions without looking away from the article.

"I have to go to the bathroom…" Alfred stared at his feet bashfully.

"Very well then," Francis nodded and turned the page.

Alfred clumsily made his way up the stairs and into Arthur's room. He opened the door and in the silence of the room, the faint squeak of the hinges sounded like screaming.

"A-Arthur? Are you in here?"

"Damn it, Alfred. I told you to wait downstairs!" Arthur reprimanded from the bathroom.

"I-I'm sorry… I was just worried about you. You looked sick…" Alfred stuttered.

Arthur sighed for what seemed to be like the hundredth time that day. He had to be easy on the lad. His emotions were probably in overdrive and his mind going at a thousand miles an hour. Deciding it best to show himself, the Englishman opened the door.

"No, I'm sorry, Alfred. I shouldn't have snapped at you like that," Arthur pulled the younger yet taller man into a hug, and it was a hug Alfred gladly accepted. "I just haven't been feeling well for a few days, is all."

"Oh… okay. Is there… anything I can do?" Alfred wondered, his cerulean orbs as pure as the ocean.

_Remember. Remember me… remember us,_ Arthur thought but quickly pushed it aside. This would take time. And he hoped the American would remember before time was up.

"No, I'll be all right. Just go wait downstairs and we'll have breakfast. After that, we have the whole day to ourselves. Sound good?" Arthur suggested with a smile.

Alfred grinned, "All right!"

"Oh and do you mind telling Francis and Matthew to come up here? I need to talk them," Arthur said.

The American pouted, "I can't stay?"

"No, not this time, love," Arthur laughed a little at the kicked puppy look Alfred was giving him.

"Okay…" Alfred's shoulders slumped and he did as Arthur told him.

Soon, Francis and Matthew were in his room.

"Is something wrong, Arthur?" Matthew questioned.

Arthur's heart pounded in his chest and his stomach lurched. He placed his hand on his abdomen and took a deep breath to calm his nerves.

"I'm pregnant."

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><p><strong>I just love cliffhangers :)<strong>

**Please review and I'll update ASAP :D**

**Arigatou~**


	4. Accommodations

**Oh my... this story has received such great feedback so I thought I'd post another chapter! Thanks so much~ It is much appreciated! I'm loving it and I hope you are loving this story! Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia and if I did... *chuckles* It would USxUK all the way**

**Warnings: Angst (the usual), USxUK, Mpreg**

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><p><strong>Blurred<strong>

**Chapter Four**

**Accommodations**

Arthur started to inwardly panic when he didn't receive a response from the duo before him. "Don't keep me in suspense! Say something already!"

"How?" Francis asked.

"I think you bloody know how! Don't ask such ridiculous questions if you already know the answer to it!" Arthur snapped, going towards the window to look out into the small town that was his home. The Briton sighed. "Alfred and I had… always wanted children. But we both were willing to sacrifice that wish when we got together. Sure, we had… you know, but we never expected for me to get… pregnant."

"What should we do? When you attend meetings, everyone's going to ask questions. Maybe you shouldn't go to the meetings anymore," Matthew said.

"No, it matters not if I do or don't make an appearance; they're still going to be suspicious. I'll tell them eventually. But for now, do not say a word," Arthur added a hint of venom in his last words, mostly directing it towards Francis, to let them know he wasn't fooling around.

"Of course, Arthur," Matthew nodded.

"You have my word, Angleterre," Francis swore.

"But what about Alfred?" Matthew inquired.

"I've no choice but to tell him. He'll be wondering as to why I'm going to look like a bloated whale in a few months. Besides, he's the father. He deserves to know even if he doesn't remember," Arthur ran his fingers through his sunny blonde hair as he stared at his reflection in the window… at his eyes.

The emerald orbs looked so confused and fearful.

"Arthur-," Matthew began before the Englishman interrupted him.

"It's best if I go and talk to him now. The sooner I get this over with, the better," Arthur made his way down the stairs to join Alfred.

Alfred was obediently sitting on the couch as Arthur had told him to do so Arthur wouldn't yell at him again. He watched the program on the television with much interest and didn't even notice the trio enter the room again.

"Alfred?" Arthur placed his hand on the American's shoulder.

Sapphires met with emeralds when Alfred whipped his head around to look at the Briton and smiled. But Arthur didn't smile back and simply went to sit beside Alfred. The American tilted his head to side a bit in perplexity.

"Arthur, is something wrong?"

"Alfred," Arthur began, placing his hand on the younger's, "there's something important I need to tell you and I need you to listen very carefully, okay?"

The puzzled man nodded, giving Arthur his undivided attention.

"Alfred… what do you think of children? Do you like children?" Arthur asked even though he already knew the answer. The American loved kids; he absolutely adored them.

"Children?" Alfred mulled over the word. "I like kids… I think."

"Well that's terrific, because I'm going to be having a baby," Arthur smiled with uncertainty.

Alfred's eyes widened with amazement but Arthur thought this reaction was one of shock and disgust. The Englishman nibbled on his bottom lip, now thinking that this was a horrible idea.

"You are?" the interest Alfred had in this was thick in his voice.

"Yes," Arthur said simply.

"Wow! Is it gonna be a boy or girl?" Alfred questioned with thorough excitement.

Arthur blinked once… twice. The American was absolutely thrilled! Of course, he expected nothing less of Alfred but this Alfred was different yet the same. _His_ Alfred, _his_ heroic American was still lying dormant in the childlike mind of the man before him. All he had to do was awaken. And return.

"It's too soon to tell that, love. The baby is still very young," Arthur placed his hand on his stomach again.

That ingenuous pout returned to Alfred's features, "But I wanna know now."

"I know you do, Alfred, but these things take time. The baby needs to grow and then we'll know. But I promise, as soon as I find out, I'll tell you," Arthur explained.

Alfred's grin had reached his ears now to what Arthur had said, and then the American diverted his gaze to the other two in the room. "Francis! Matthew! Arthur is gonna have a baby! Isn't that great?"

"Yes, Alfred, it is," the Canadian nodded with a smile.

_"Oui_, it is definitely magnificent, Amerique," Francis added and winked at the American.

"How long do we have to wait?" Alfred wondered.

"In nine months, there will be a baby here," Arthur found delight in the American's fascination.

"A baby…" Alfred said those words as if he was a blind man seeing the sun for the first time. "Will I be like… its big brother? I mean his or her big brother?" the American rephrased the last part of his sentence, thinking it unfair to call the child an 'it.'

Arthur froze. A big brother was what Alfred had requested… not father…

Albeit, 'father' was a tad bit farfetched (especially in Alfred's current state of mind) but the Brit remained hopeful that at any given moment, Alfred would burst out laughing and claim that this was all some sort of practical joke. But Alfred did not. An artificial grin traveled its way across Arthur's face, "If that is what you want to be, then so be it. I'm sure you'll be an excellent older brother."

The American then began chatting animatedly to Matthew about what his plans were for the little tyke while Francis retreated into the kitchen to prepare breakfast. There was no way that the Frenchman was going to allow Arthur to cook.

"You bloody frog! Who said you could use my kitchen?" Arthur demanded.

"You're going to let our dear Amerique starve?" Francis started pulling out pots and pans and the necessary ingredients to prepare a decent breakfast.

"I can cook just fine! I am more than capable of doing things myself!" Arthur shouted, wanting to kick the Frenchman out of his house that very instant.

"I beg to differ, Angleterre. You have not cooked a decent meal since well… ever," Francis smirked.

"You cheese-eating-surrender monkey!" the Englishman retorted.

"Oh, Angleterre, calm yourself. You don't want to risk hurting the baby, non?" Francis mocked and continued his job of fixing breakfast.

* * *

><p>"We really appreciate you having us over, Arthur. It was a… interesting visit," Matthew said as he and Francis were making their way out the door.<p>

"I should be thanking you two, I suppose. I am in your debt if you keep what happened here strictly confidential until I give the word," Arthur was leaning against the doorframe.

"Rest assured," Matthew adjusted his glasses back onto the bridge of his nose. "Your secret is safe with us."

"Thank you," Arthur exhaled quietly in relief.

"Well, Alfred, I guess we'll see you later, right?" Matthew smiled at the American by Arthur.

"Um… yes, of course," Alfred nodded.

"Take good care of Angleterre, okay? Make sure he doesn't hurt himself," Francis said and if one hadn't been paying attention, they would've thought that the Frenchman was being sarcastic. However, that was not the case. Francis was being as sincere as could be.

Arthur took a small glimpse at Alfred. This would've been the opportune moment when the American would be shouting: you can count on me! The hero always takes care of his loved ones! Even though Arthur found that Alfred's behavior was far too immature for someone his age, he also saw that the hero complex suited the American quite well.

But Alfred did not shout those words.

He did not monologue for a solid ten minutes.

Alfred merely nodded once again. Francis and Matthew then departed, leaving Arthur alone with… Alfred. As Arthur shut the door, he stared into the American's azure orbs. They were as bright and clear as the cloudless sky, so full of innocence and unknowing. So different from the slight dark blue tint his eyes used to have.

He hated this. He hated- no. No. Alfred was acquitted in this situation.

_He doesn't remember you. He doesn't remember anyone. How can you not hate him?_ The voice in the back of his head spat.

_I can't bring myself to hate him. He's just a child,_ Arthur hissed.

_Denial is a powerful thing;_ those words were muttered in a dangerous tone before dissipating into his mind. Now, Arthur, being the short-tempered creature he was, clenched and unclenched his fists. There was no way he was agreeing with those whispers in his head. He could not- would not hate Alfred. He loved the idiot too much. He loved his free flying eagle… he loved his baby bird.

"So, Arthur, what're we gonna be doing today?" Alfred was bouncing on the balls of his feet to display his enthusiasm.

"Well," Arthur wasn't too sure of what to say, "We can take a walk around London- see the sights. Visit the galleries, if that is what you wish. There are plenty of things to do here in England."

"We can go wherever you want," Alfred stated and waited for the Englishman's answer.

"Hmm, I'm not too sure myself. How about we just go for a tour around London? I'm sure you'll enjoy that," Arthur said. "Now, run along and take your bath."

Alfred hesitated.

"Is something wrong?" Arthur questioned.

"U-Um… are you gonna take a bath, too?" Alfred wondered while staring at his feet, glancing at Arthur every few seconds.

"Sure…" Arthur left the phrase hanging in the air but quickly rebounded, "Go ahead and get it started for us."

A child.

Children often asked this of their parents.

Alfred had asked Arthur this when the American was just a toddler. And now he was asking again. And Arthur was agreeing. Alfred nearly bolted upstairs and into the bathroom to turn on the faucet. He watched as the tub began to fill and quickly undressed himself and stepped into the steamy water.

The American relaxed against the porcelain tub and wondered what was taking Arthur so long.

Said Englishman took each step at an agonizingly slow pace. He shouldn't be doing this… he should not be doing this! Before the blonde man knew it, he was standing in front of the bathroom, his hand on the doorknob. The brass was like ice on his fingertips, almost as if it was prohibiting his entry.

Arthur swallowed thickly to compose himself and walked inside.

"Is it warm enough for you?" Arthur lifted his shirt over his head.

"Yup!" Alfred answered gleefully.

"Good," the Englishman finished undressing and eased himself into the water.

Arthur had noticed the concentrated gaze Alfred was giving him.

"What is it?" Arthur questioned.

"So, there's a baby growing in your tummy right now?" Alfred placed his hand on Arthur's stomach.

"Y-Yes," Arthur shuddered from the chills that resulted from the contact.

"That's amazing. I can't wait to have my little brother or sister!" he grinned.

Alfred reached over to grab the shampoo and squirted the soap into his hands. Arthur's emerald orbs widened as he watched the American's fluid movements when he grabbed the bottle beside him. The water trickled down Alfred's tan flesh, making it glisten in the light… it was taunting him.

The Englishman was so caught up in his thoughts that he had failed to notice that Alfred had scooted much closer to him. Alfred was in between his legs and was lathering the shampoo into the Briton's sun-kissed hair. Arthur gasped quietly and tried not to focus on the supple fingers that were massaging his head.

He had to go. He had to get out now! This was just far too much to bear! If he didn't leave, he'd never be able to look at Alfred again. The American continued to wash Arthur's hair, oblivious to the inner conflict raging inside the man opposite him. Alfred wasn't trying anything suggestive- he didn't even know the meaning of the word.

"Lean your head back," Alfred giggled. "You're all sudsy."

Arthur complied but didn't find that there was anything to giggle about. Hurry Alfred… the Brit was dangerously close. Alfred had finished rinsing the soap from Arthur's golden locks. Said Englishman hopped out of the tub and snatched a towel to dry off before exiting the room.

Alfred slumped into the water until all but his head was submerged. He stared at the small ripples made by his breathing. He was so… bemused. He didn't understand. What had he done wrong?

_You did nothing_, he heard in his head.

_But I did…_ Alfred thought, wanting to drown in the bath water.

In Arthur's bedroom, the Englishman was still only clad in his towel and was propping himself on the wall, feeling dirtier than ever. He covered his mouth with his hand, breathing deeply, erratically, as tears began to rage down his face. The blonde clutched at his stomach, at their unborn child.

He just wanted things to be right.

Was that too much to ask?

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><p><strong>*hugs Artie and Alfie*<strong>

**I hope you enjoyed this lovely little chapter~**

**Please review! :D**

**Arigatou~**


	5. Clouded

**Not much to say other than I hope you enjoy the chapter!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia. And if I did... use your imagination.**

**Warnings: the usual (USxUK, Mpreg, *attempted* angst)**

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><p><strong>Blurred<strong>

**Chapter Five**

**Clouded**

Arthur hadn't moved since he had gotten himself dressed in just sweatpants and a shirt and laid down on his bed. He didn't have the energy- or the desire. He didn't want to see Alfred, not after what had happened. He was… afraid. Not that the Briton would ever admit that he was (he preferred the phrase 'needed some space'). Arthur did not make a move to get up when he heard Alfred leaving the bathroom nor when he heard the soft knocks at his door.

That had been over an hour ago.

The Englishman sighed and sat up. What was he doing? Nothing would get done by sitting here in his room moping the day away. He had promised Alfred a day of fun and that's what the American was going to get. Arthur made his way down the hall in a brisk walk, ignoring the roll of nausea that just hit him.

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><p>Alfred had stayed isolated in his room for what felt like an eternity. He was afraid to cross paths with the Briton- he was afraid to meet those emerald orbs… he was afraid of the frightened look in those eyes. Alfred stared out the window and into the town of Aldershot. He sighed. The American wanted to know what he did wrong so he could fix it…<p>

A knock at his door made him turn.

"Alfred? May I come in?"

Arthur…

"Um, y-yes…" Alfred replied.

His door opened and there stood the Englishman, his face void of emotion. The sunny blonde leaned on the doorframe and crossed his arms. "Did you still want to go into London today?"

Alfred paused before speaking, "If you're feeling up to it, we can…"

"I don't mind going. Get dressed quickly so we can leave."

The American nodded and Arthur began to exit.

"Arthur?"

Said man turned, his hand on the doorknob to close it. "Yes?"

"Why are you so sad?" Alfred wondered innocently.

Arthur's emerald orbs widened for the slightest second and sat down next to the American. "Sad? Whatever do you mean?"

"Whenever you're around me… you always look so sad… did I… do something to make you sad?" Alfred questioned, desperately wanting to know so he could fix this. He didn't like Arthur being angry with him. "I'm sorry if I did. I really am sorry."

The Englishman blinked a few times. No matter if Alfred had the inability to read the atmosphere, when it came to Arthur, Alfred was very perceptive and could read him like an open book. His memory loss made no difference. Arthur took a seat beside the American and placed his hand atop the tan one, "You didn't do anything wrong. You just… remind me of someone I love."

"Who is it?" Alfred asked curiously.

"My boyfriend."

"You… have a _boyfriend?"_ Alfred nearly spat the word. What was this feeling he had? It felt like a small flame had ignited in his heart and was threating to grow in size.

Jealousy.

Alfred was jealous.

He couldn't pinpoint why, however, but the feeling would not escape him. The idea of Arthur having a boyfriend angered him. It shouldn't though… the American thought. He had no reason to be angry or jealous at all. It wasn't like he was Arthur's boyfriend.

"So, the baby's daddy is your-,"

"Boyfriend, yes," Arthur finished his sentence.

"Where is your boyfriend?"

"He… went away. I don't know where or when he'll be coming back but I have faith that he will," Arthur answered somberly.

"Wait for me… I'll return…" Alfred mumbled, his eyes opaque and distant. The taller man didn't realize what he was saying, what words he had spoken. His mind had drifted into the depths of itself and began to grasp at the American's memories, only succeeding in bringing back words not images. But the hold did not last.

"What?" Arthur whipped around.

"Huh?" Alfred blinked at the Englishman, his eyes reverting from the murky blue to their original sky hue.

"What did you just say?" Arthur demanded, placing his hands firmly on Alfred's shoulders.

"I-I didn't say anything," Alfred stuttered, startled that Arthur had grabbed him so suddenly.

_Wait for me. I'll return._

Arthur released his near death grip on Alfred's shoulder and briskly left the room, telling the American to get dressed and then they would leave. Alfred watched the door for a few more moments as if expecting Arthur to come back and not leave him alone in this uncomfortable silence. But Arthur did not come.

Sighing, Alfred stood from the bed and began to get dressed in a simple blue polo shirt with his bomber jacket and jeans with the same black sneakers that had dried overnight. Arthur was upset with him- Alfred just knew it. Alfred slipped out of the room and hesitantly made his way down the hall.

Arthur was sluggish in his movements as he made his way downstairs into the living room. He shrugged on his coat and lingered by the front door and did not make eye contact with the American when said man met him.

"Ready?" Arthur glanced at Alfred from the corner of his eye, catching the small nod Alfred gave. The Englishman opened the door and strolled to the bus stop. Alfred clung to Arthur's jacket sleeve once more, the fear of losing the tea lover overriding the earlier encounter.

Arthur was uncertain if he wanted Alfred to attach himself to the sleeve of his jacket or to demand Alfred to let go. But the Brit couldn't find it in his heart to hurt the American… or dishearten the man any further. He wouldn't be able to handle it. After boarding the bus, Arthur and Alfred sat near the back, Alfred taking the window seat.

The American watched the town with wonder, his eyes twinkling. Arthur smiled but it didn't quite reach those emerald orbs. Mixed emotions swirled within those eyes- a part of him was certain that he could get accustomed to this child-like Alfred… the other part not so much.

His smile was bittersweet, his vision was clouded, and his heart was aching.

Arthur Kirkland didn't know how much more he could take.

However, both were unaware of the mauve eyes watching them closely and carefully. A sinister smile made its way across the face of such eyes.

He would bide his time.

Yes…

In eight months, he would make his move.

In eight months… Arthur's precious American would fall.

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><p><strong>Who is this mysterious person that's after Alfred?<strong>

**You'll just have to wait to find out! ;D**

**I apologize for the shortness XD**

**Please review~**

**I love you all!**

**Arigatou~!**


	6. Anxiety

**Haha, this chapter came out fairly quick. That is a reward for all the wonderful feedback I've been getting on this story! Thanks so much guys! I really appreciate it! I will do my best to get chapters out before school starts and even then I'll do my best! Enjoy!**

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><p><strong>Blurred<strong>

**Chapter Six**

**Anxiety**

Arthur and Alfred arrived back home in the early evening (right after they had retrieved Arthur's car from where he parked it by the burned building), just as the sun was kissing the horizon farewell. Both were feeling worn down but Alfred continued to chat excitedly with Arthur the entire way home about how he had a wonderful time. And Arthur couldn't help but listen and smile. He remembered when the American was just a boy when Arthur had first taken him to London and the boy was as thrilled then as he was now.

Of course Arthur nearly slammed on the brakes when he saw a car parked in his driveway.

Who the hell was that?

Arthur hurriedly parked the car, "Stay here and lock the doors," he ordered firmly before stepping out of the car. Alfred did as he was told and watched with worry.

The Englishman cautiously approached the vehicle and was at ease when he caught sight of the maple leaf on the license plate. Matthew. What the hell was he doing here? Arthur's stride was a bit more urgent now and knocked on the window to get Matthew's attention.

The window rolled down to review a rather tired looking Canadian. Arthur's emerald orbs bore into those of Alfred's brother's. He'd say he was crazy but it looked as if there were some light hints of purple tainting the deep blue. But then again, Matthew's eyes were always much darker than Alfred's. Was it the sunset making him see these things?

"Is everything all right, Matthew?" Arthur questioned, not liking the vibe he was receiving one bit.

"Huh? Oh everything is fine. I just wanted to tell you that the meeting has been rescheduled. It's tomorrow instead of Friday. I tried to call but you didn't answer," Matthew replied.

"You did?" Arthur pulled out his phone from his pocket and saw that he indeed did have a few missed calls from the weary Canadian. Arthur must've forgotten that he had put his phone on silent so that there would be no interruptions. He just wanted it to be him and Alfred for that entire day.

Speaking of Alfred, the Englishman nearly forgot that the American had been waiting in the car. Arthur turned and waved Alfred over, telling the man it was all right to come out. The passenger door opened and the younger man returned to Arthur's side.

"Hello, Alfred," Matthew smiled tiredly.

"Hello Matthew," Alfred gave a small nod in greeting and smiled. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm all right. Just a bit tired," Matthew shifted his gaze to Arthur. "There's something important I need to tell you that I think you should know."

"What is it?" Arthur questioned.

"I'd be wary of Ivan if I were you, my friend."

"Why?" Arthur's eyes narrowed a bit.

"He's been acting strange… darker than usual. And you know bad things tend to happen when he's brooding," Matthew warned. "Just keep an eye on him at the meeting. I hear he's after Alfred."

Arthur froze immediately. What in the world could that sadistic Russian want with Alfred? Surely he hadn't found out about Alfred losing his memories. At least not yet. Everyone would know by tomorrow. The Englishman clenched his fists.

"Thank you, Matthew. We'll see you tomorrow," Arthur said shortly before guiding Alfred into the sanctuary of their home.

Matthew backed out of the driveway and drove off, heading to the hotel he and Francis were staying at.

Inside, both men removed their coats and hung them on the coat rack and as Arthur was making his way upstairs, he felt a tug on the sleeve of his shirt.

The Englishman turned to see that Alfred had stopped him. "Yes?"

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. It's nothing for you to worry about. But we have to get up early tomorrow for a meeting so we should go to bed now," Arthur answered.

"Can I… can I sleep with you tonight?" Alfred wondered.

Arthur hesitated, trying to stay true to his words when he told Alfred that it would only be a single night but then thought of all the things that could happen to Alfred overnight if Ivan was anywhere near.

Mother Hen Mode: activated.

"Yes, Alfred. Of course you can," Arthur brushed Alfred's bangs out of the American's face.

A smile of relief crossed the American's face as he leaned into Arthur's touch. The Englishman's skin was soft and… inviting. He felt warm. This was no foreign feeling. He enjoyed this feeling. It made him happy. No, elated was a more fitting word.

After dressing into their pajamas, Alfred and Arthur slid into bed. Alfred removed his glasses and set them on the nightstand and just stared at Arthur's emerald orbs. In hopes of comforting the Briton, Alfred scooted closer to Arthur, and nuzzled his head into Arthur's chest. Said Englishman was a bit taken aback by Alfred's actions but embraced the American none the less. He sighed in content.

This felt good.

This felt amazing.

This felt _right._

Arthur placed his head in Alfred's mop of hair and inhaled the scent of the American's hair. It smelled of the wheat fields that flowed elegantly in the summer breeze, his smile the warm sunshine that made those fields flourish and his eyes were the ocean waves that crashed against the shore in America.

Alfred gripped onto Arthur's shirt tightly and nestled in as close as possible to the Englishman. Arthur ran his fingers through that silky sandy hair. It assuaged the Brit that Alfred was safe in his arms and not in the hands of that sadist of a Russian.

Said American smiled in Arthur's shirt and fell asleep in the Englishman's strong arms. Arthur, however, could not sleep. He was too preoccupied with thinking about tomorrow. How could he explain what had happened? How would everyone react? How would Alfred react?

His stranger anxiety hadn't lessened in the slightest since he had been home.

_I'm sure he'll be just fine. If he could handle London, he can handle a meeting with the other countries,_ Arthur thought. He needed to remain optimistic. For Alfred's sake.

* * *

><p>Arthur woke before Alfred the next morning, which was nothing new. He glanced at the clock. Hmm… 7:45. They had a little over an hour to ready themselves for the meeting. That should be plenty of time.<p>

"Alfred," he whispered tenderly. "Love, it's time to wake up."

"Mmm…" Alfred mumbled before his ocean eyes flittered open. "Arthur?"

Arthur just greeted the American with a smile.

"What time is it?" Alfred rubbed his eyes and yawned, staring up at Arthur with childish cerulean orbs.

"It's time for us to get up. It's 7:45," Arthur said jokingly, placing a small kiss on the American's forehead. Alfred blinked in confusion but said nothing and sat up when the tea lover rolled away removed himself from bed.

Arthur searched through the closet and pulled out two suits, one for him, one for Alfred. The American watched the sunny blonde carefully as he moved about the room. Noticing the curious look he was receiving from Alfred, Arthur chuckled.

"We have a meeting to go to, Alfred. Remember?"

"Oh yeah," Alfred scratched the back of his head nervously.

Once bathing (separately, Arthur had made sure of it), Arthur had begun helping Alfred put on his suit since the American was having a difficult time with the tie.

"There. All done," Arthur admired the way the suit fit Alfred nicely.

"It's uncomfortable…" Alfred sighed.

Arthur smiled.

_Some things never change,_ he thought.

"I know," Arthur nodded, putting on his suit as well, "but it's required."

Alfred merely nodded.

The duo soon left, heading to the building that the conference would be held in.

* * *

><p>The screen showed Arthur and Alfred leaving their house.<p>

"Aw, how cute," a mocking smile graced his lips as his violet eyes watched the screen with amusement. "How sad it would be to tear them apart. Eight months cannot come fast enough… no, eight months is far too long. Make it six. I want to have my fun soon."

He turned to the clock. 8:15.

The meeting would be starting at 9:00. He'd better get going now. Not that it would start on time- it never did. He grabbed his coat and exited the hotel he was staying in, the baleful smile still presenting itself proudly on his lips as a dark chuckle resounded deep within his throat.

Six months couldn't come fast enough for him.

* * *

><p>A few of the nations were already present when Arthur and Alfred had arrived. But it was enough to cause Alfred to grip onto the sleeve of Arthur's suit. The Englishman shot Alfred a reassuring smile before taking their seats at the table.<p>

Alfred scanned the faces of the new people he was about to meet. He needed to behave and sit silently next to Arthur so he wouldn't disturb the others. He didn't want to disappoint Arthur or embarrass the tea lover. Said Englishman began tuning out all but Alfred in case the American became too uncomfortable.

All he did was watch the shenanigans going on around the room: Feliciano constantly talking to Ludwig about pasta, Antonio flirting with Lovino even though the Italian was clearly blowing the Spaniard off, Francis and Matthew conversing privately in French and Roderich, Elizabeta, and Kiku were sitting quietly.

But the Brit felt his blood run cold when he laid eyes on a certain Russian. Ivan seemed to be deep in thought about something and was definitely brooding. Arthur did not like the looks of this one bit and Matthew's warning rang strongly in his mind.

Ivan's eyes were cold. Ruthless. His glare sent chills down Alfred's spine as the Russian laid his eyes on the American. Alfred's breath hitched in his throat when he made eye contact with Ivan. He didn't like the vibes he was receiving from this guy at all. The Russian frightened Alfred to an extent where the American felt he should leave the room right then and there.

Compared to Ivan, Alfred was something that the Russian could chew up and spit out! Alfred tore his gaze away when he felt a hand being placed on his shoulder. It was Arthur. Alfred began to calm down when he met those gentle green eyes.

He scanned the room to try and see if he might know anyone else. I recognized Matthew and Francis immediately but didn't want to interrupt their conversation.

"Well, _bonjour_ Amerique and Angleterre. How are you two this morning?"

Alfred almost didn't hear that the one who was speaking was the Frenchman across from him.

"Oh. W-we're good," Alfred stuttered, still a bit uncomfortable with his surroundings. "How are you two?"

"We're good. Francis almost overslept this morning," Matthew smiled, clutching onto Kumojiro.

"Well, you know why, don't you?" Francis winked, causing Matthew to blush furiously.

"F-Francis! Now is not the time!" Matthew scolded, thoroughly embarrassed.

Arthur had covered Alfred's ears with his hands and glared at the Frenchman.

"You bloody frog! Don't corrupt Alfred's mind! We don't need to know what happened last night!" Arthur shouted, his eyes becoming cold.

"Don't act like you've never done it before, Angleterre," Francis teased.

Arthur decided he would let Francis have the last say lest things turn ugly and they begin fighting. He removed his hands from Alfred's head and sat back down in his chair but still was listening intently to make sure Francis didn't say anything too… vulgar (for lack of better word).

The other nations then began filing into the room and Alfred visibly tensed. Ludwig noticed this instantly and began questioning inwardly as to why the American wasn't being his usual cheerful self. He supposed that Arthur would explain sooner or later.

"All right, let's begin," Ludwig broke the multiple conversations buzzing around the room. A few countries went and nothing they said really caught Alfred's interest. That is, until Ludwig called on him.

"Alfred, it's your turn."

The American squirmed in his chair and bit his lip. He was completely unprepared for this! He didn't know he would have to speak at the meeting! He thought he was supposed to be seen, not heard.

"I… uh…"

"He can't," Arthur finished.

"And why not?" Ludwig raised an eyebrow.

"I'm sure you all heard of the fire that occurred in London two days ago, did you not?"

Everyone showed some sign of agreement.

"Well, there was an accident that caused Alfred to lose his memory. He had suffered a blow to the head and we don't know when his memories will return. He'll be attending meetings but he will not be presenting at any of them until everything is back to normal," Arthur explained.

The others were strangely silent.

"And if his memory never returns?" Kiku Honda decided to be the one to speak.

"Then so be it," Arthur had unconsciously placed his hand on his stomach. It was churning at the thought that Alfred would never remember him… or their child, "He'll have to create new memories. There is nothing more we can do."

* * *

><p>The meeting ended without anything too eventful other than the usual arguments that occurred between Francis and Arthur (which were short lived) or productive since most had completely forgotten about why they were there and began conversing with the now innocent and naïve Alfred. But the end of the meeting meant an array of questions had sprung up about the accident, Alfred's memory, how Arthur was going to cope with this, etc.<p>

Most questions had been directed at Alfred and it was apparent that the American was becoming a little more than flustered so Arthur had simply stuck with (re)introductions and requested that all questions to be put on hold. This wasn't what Arthur had wanted. It wasn't his intention to make this a huge deal.

But of course, some nations were curious- that, or really worried.

The duo turned to leave but stopped when Alfred had nearly bumped into the Russian that was nearly a head taller than him. Arthur's eyes narrowed as Alfred backed away a few steps and gulped nervously.

"Is there something you needed, Ivan?" Arthur hissed.

"No. It's just… people never suspect the quiet ones," Ivan said.

"You would know that, wouldn't you?" Arthur spat. What was he doing? He shouldn't be provoking this man! It would only make things worse but his words just kept spewing out.

"But of course. I just told you because it's something to keep in mind," Ivan said before stepping out of the way so Alfred and Arthur could pass. Arthur grabbed Alfred's hand and the blondes hurriedly made their past the Russian, not wanting to instigate anything further. After nearing the exit, Arthur finally slowed down.

"Arthur? What's going on?" Alfred wondered.

Arthur didn't answer.

"Alfred! Arthur!" Matthew had quickly caught up with the two flustered men and Francis was beginning to catch up.

"What was that all about?" Francis questioned, puzzled by the Russian's sudden odd behavior.

"Remember what I said last night, Francis? I told you that Ivan had been acting odd and that he was after Alfred for some strange reason. That's why I left so I could tell Arthur about it," Matthew had a small hint of annoyance in his voice as if he had already explained this to the Frenchman thousands of times.

Arthur didn't doubt that one bit.

"But why would he be after Amerique? Of what we know, he hasn't done anything brash and even if he did, Amerique wouldn't know," Francis said.

"Well, we all know that Ivan has never been too fond of Alfred. This is a convenient moment for him if he's going to attack- when Alfred cannot defend himself. Or at least… doesn't know how to," Arthur responded, nibbling on his bottom lip in thought.

"Don't let him out of your sight until we get this whole thing figured out," Francis said- or more like ordered. Arthur raised an eyebrow at this. Though he was grateful for the Frenchman's concern for the youngest nation, he still couldn't shake off the bitterness of their relationship.

But acting immature wasn't an option here. He had to protect Alfred.

"I planned on it."

* * *

><p>Arthur and Alfred arrived home once more with Francis and Matthew tagging along (much to Arthur's dismay). Arthur concurred though, finding himself unable to say no to the look Alfred was giving him when the American asked if the two French speaking nations could visit later on that night. Alfred had quickly changed into so more casual and comfortable clothes before meeting Arthur downstairs.<p>

The evening could not have come any faster for Arthur as he let Matthew and Francis inside his home. The next few hours were spent by Matthew and Alfred playing video games and Francis and Arthur trying not to kill each other while watching them.

After losing a few games, Alfred had requested that they just watch the television for a while, saying that he was tired of playing and didn't want to beat Matthew again. This earned a laugh from the Canadian.

He's such a sore loser, Arthur thought with a smile while shaking his head.

The American nation then found himself placing his head in Arthur's lap, falling asleep to the feeling of the Englishman's lithe fingers running through his hair.

Alfred leaned into the warm touch, having a small smile.

For what seemed like forever, Alfred's low snoring was the only sound in the room.

"So, Angleterre," Francis began quietly, "have you told Amerique about what he is going to be experiencing during your pregnancy? You know, the mood swings, weird food cravings, all the others in between."

"No. I haven't. I was going to tell him but I still don't think he'd understand. I just don't want him to take it personally, is all. Maybe he should stay with one of you until this passes. I don't want to hurt him by saying something I will truly regret," Arthur gazed at Alfred longingly as he removed the American's glasses.

_"Non,_ that is not such a good idea. I think he'd rather deal with this rather than be away from you. He's happy with you, Angleterre. He's always been happy with you," Francis shook his head.

Arthur sighed. This was going to be a long nine months.

"All right. I'll speak with him about it in the morning."

Francis and Matthew left shortly after that, saying that they would come by and visit again before they left England and go back to their home country. Arthur simply nodded and proceeded in waking Alfred up so they could get to bed.

"Arthur? …'s going on?" Alfred mumbled.

"It's time for bed, love," Arthur replied soothingly.

"Already? But I'm not tired," the American replied while yawning in between his words.

"Yes, you are. You fell asleep, remember?" Arthur smiled while walking with Alfred up the stairs. The American said nothing more, his mind teetering between sleep and consciousness.

The two climbed into bed and Alfred nuzzled himself into Arthur's chest, listening to the rhythmic beat of the Englishman's heart.

_…Ba-dump…_

_…Ba-dump…_

_…Ba-dump…_

Such a sad, slow heartbeat. It was in pain. Alfred wanted to question Arthur but found that his eyes were slipping closed and Arthur continued to look out the window at the velvet sky.

"I'll protect you, Alfred. I promise," he whispered, kissing the American's head.

* * *

><p>"Oh yes, you would like to believe that, wouldn't you, Arthur?" his voice was thick with amusement. He watched as the screen darkened when Arthur turned off the bedside lamp.<p>

His lavender eyes glittered from the dim light in the room.

"Matthew, is everything okay? You've been on that computer for quite some time now. What in the world are you doing?" Francis called.

"Nothing of importance," Matthew replied with a smirk as he readjusted his glasses. "Just checking on some things."

* * *

><p><strong>So now you know the mystery person! Tell me what you think!<strong>

**Please review~ I love them and I love you! **

**Arigatou~**


	7. Beloved

**Well, I've been getting these out pretty fast, haven't I? And it's all thanks to you lovely people who add my story to your favorites/alerts and review! You don't realize how much I truly appreciate it! I don't want to keep you all waiting (and I don't like writing long ass Author's Notes) so enjoy this little chappie! :)**

**Oh and please excuse any mistakes. I will go back and fix them ASAP. Mind you that this is un-beta'd.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia in any way, shape or form. If I did, there would USxUK in every single episode. Every. Single. Episode.**

**Warnings: some USxUK (or UKxUS in this case), language, and *attempted* angst**

* * *

><p><strong>Blurred<strong>

**Chapter Seven**

**Beloved**

"Matthew, what could be so important that you spend hours on end looking at it?" Francis questioned, gazing over Matthew's shoulder at a now black screen.

"I was just… watching a video, that's all," Matthew smiled innocently, his amethyst eyes shimmering with the same look.

Francis raised an eyebrow, "Matthew, are you sure you're all right?"

"I've never been better," Matthew continued to smile.

* * *

><p>"Alfred. Love, wake up," Arthur shook the American's shoulder gently.<p>

"Hmm… Arthur?" the American sat up, his mind still heavy with sleep. "What's wrong?"

"My boss called to inform me of a last minute meeting. He said I couldn't bring you with me no matter how many times I asked him. Will you be all right on your own?" Arthur wondered. "I am more than willing to stay with you if you're uncomfortable."

Alfred rubbed his eyes before responding with a smile, "I'll be okay."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive."

Alfred wasn't going to let Arthur know that he was a little nervous about being home alone. He couldn't rely on Arthur forever. He wanted to make the Englishman proud and show that he could be independent and not be a big baby all the time.

"All right then. There are scones in the kitchen for breakfast. I should be back before lunch but if not, eat something light and we'll go out to get something. If there is an emergency, my number is by the phone. Call me immediately. Don't answer the door for anyone," Arthur instructed, glancing at the American every few seconds to make sure he was listening as he shrugged on his coat.

"Are you sure you'll be okay here by yourself?"

Alfred nodded, "Don't worry. I'll be fine."

"Okay," Arthur strolled over to the American that was still sitting in bed and kissed his forehead. "I'll be back before you know it."

With that, Arthur left the room and soon left the house. After sitting in bed for another five minutes, Alfred decided to eat before showering and swung his legs off the bed and onto the floor, his heel grazing something that had his full attention.

The item had been nudged back underneath the bed and Alfred grabbed his glasses from the nightstand before reaching underneath the bed to retrieve it. It was a leather book with three words etched in gold on the cover.

Once having the item in his hands, Alfred studied the words carefully.

_Our Beloved Memories._

Hmm…

Alfred let his curiosity get the better of him and began opening the book when he heard footsteps coming from outside the room. The American stood up, clutching the book to his chest, and poked his head out into the hallway.

"Hello? I-Is anyone there?"

The American sprinted down the stairs and into the kitchen when he heard a door close, panting heavily- not from fatigue but from fear. He quickly shook his head. He needed to compose himself. Arthur probably left a window open and the wind made the door close.

Yeah, that was probably it.

Just like Arthur had said, there was a plate of freshly made scones resting on a plate in the kitchen. Alfred picked one of them up, examining it. It looked edible. Maybe if he just…

The American took a small bite and chewed on it slowly before coming to a complete stop. Was it supposed to taste like this? He swallowed the pastry anyway (nearly making him gag in the process) and threw away the less than half eaten food.

He glanced at the three other scones.

Those things were death on a platter!

Having lost his appetite, Alfred exited the kitchen and began exploring the rest of Arthur's home since it was fairly large. He didn't wander too far from the living room, though, not wanting to get lost. Alfred then came across a room that piqued his interest.

The door was cracked open and Alfred placed his hand on the doorknob and pushed the door ajar. He stuck his head in and did a quick look around before fully entering the room. Bookcases lined the walls along with old dressers and chests that were coated in dust.

Perfect place to look at that book.

Turning on the light fixture above, Alfred seated himself on a dusty chest, cracking open the book once more. He read the first page, thoroughly confused by its words.

_To my friends, Alfred and Arthur._

_May you cherish love's moments and store them here._

_From, Kiku Honda._

Still befuddled, Alfred turned the page, smiling a bit at what he saw. It was a picture of him and Arthur and said Englishman did not look happy in the least. The sunny blonde's face was beet red at the fact that his picture had been taken.

But Alfred seemed to be having a grand time, finding Arthur's blushing cute.

He read the tab on the bottom:

_First date; July 5th_

First date? Since when did he and Arthur ever go on a date?

Alfred turned the page anyway, becoming more and more confused by each picture he looked at. He tried to make sense of the writing on the tabs beneath the pictures but it only made his oncoming headache worse. He stopped at the last picture and it was one of him.

He was wearing a firemen's uniform with his protective helmet tucked under his arm and his trademark grin lighting up his face. The writing on the tab was only two words that were scripted in the most elegant handwriting.

_My Beloved; November 16th_

"Beloved…" Alfred tested the word. Also if he remembered correctly, the 16th was three days ago… he met Arthur three days ago… hmm…

...this was all so confusing!

"You shouldn't be digging through other's things, Alfred. It's considered rude," a voice chuckled.

Alfred nearly dropped the book and looked around, "Who's there?"

There was no answer. Only footsteps getting closer and closer to Alfred.

Said American bolted from the room and out into the hall, reaching the living room in record time. He placed the photo album on the coffee table and scrutinized his surroundings fretfully. The footsteps became prominent, dripping fear into Alfred with each step.

He backed against the wall and slumped to the floor, burying his hands in his hair and cried out, "Go away! Leave me alone!"

The footsteps stop, causing Alfred to look up and he sighed in relief.

"Matthew! It was only you!" Alfred stood up and began nearing the Canadian. "You really scared me. But… I didn't know you were here. How'd you get inside?"

"I went around to the back door," Matthew replied, hints of deriding leak into his voice.

"Oh. But you could've called first. You really scared me," Alfred nodded.

"I know. That was my intention."

Alfred paused, "Y-You wanted to scare me?"

"Oh, I want to do more than simply scare you, Alfred. Much more," Matthew replied, smirking.

The darkness in Matthew's voice caused Alfred to back up considerably. This wasn't the sweet Canadian he met just a few days ago. The man before him had malevolent mauve eyes that were colder than ice and it chilled Alfred to his core.

This man's voice was thick with a nasty anger and with each step Matthew took, Alfred backed up. He became increasingly panicked when his back met the wall and Matthew was less than two feet from him.

"I saw what you were doing, Alfred. You were looking through Arthur's photo album. That album is very important to him and he will be very disappointed that you started snooping around. He'll be crushed," Matthew placed his hand atop Alfred's head.

Being the same height mattered not to Alfred. He still felt puny.

"I-I didn't mean to hurt him… I just…" Alfred sighed, lowering his head a little.

"Don't worry. Your secret is safe with me. But I only ask for something in return," Matthew said but then slammed Alfred's head against the floor.

Pain coursed through Alfred's head as it came in contact with the hard wood and stars danced across his vision.

* * *

><p>When Arthur's cell phone rang, all the men in the meeting room jumped at the sudden noise. Arthur fished it out of his pocket to see that it was a call from home.<p>

Home.

Alfred.

Alfred was calling.

"I'm sorry, I really must take this call," the Englishman quickly stepped out of the room, leaving his boss and the others baffled and a little miffed.

He flipped it open, "Alfred, is everything all right?"

There was a pause.

"Alfred, answer me. What's wrong?"

The only sounds that came through the phone were soft rustling and quiet sobs.

"Alfred F. Jones, answer me!" Arthur ordered, his composure rattling.

"_A-Arthur… c-can you come home… please? I-I'm scared…"_

"Alfred, what happened-,"

"_Please!"_ the American sounded like he had burst into tears and started sobbing uncontrollably.

"I'm coming Alfred, just hold on," Arthur reassured.

When Alfred did not cease to cry, Arthur spoke again, "Hang in there, my beloved. I'll be there soon."

Only after hearing those words did the American's sobs lessen into soft sniffles.

"Stay where you are until I get there," Arthur ordered gently though the firmness was still present.

"_O-Okay…"_

Arthur quickly hung up and informed the men in the conference room that he was leaving due to an emergency at home and didn't give them time to respond as he left.

* * *

><p>The Englishman made it home in record time and burst inside, his eyes widening at the scene before him. The living room was absolutely trashed and amongst the mess was Alfred, leaning against the wall and was curled into himself.<p>

"Alfred!" Arthur ran to the frightened American but began to shake him gently. "Alfred, look at me."

Said American slowly lifted his head. Arthur gasped at what he saw.

Alfred had dried blood running down his face, the tears stained his face, and bruises marred his tan skin. Once realizing who was before him, Alfred gripped onto Arthur tightly, starting to sob again. The American buried his head in the crook of Arthur's neck, his warm tears dripping on the Englishman's skin.

His clutch on Arthur's clothes became tighter with each broken whimper.

"You came…! You came…!" Alfred repeated through his cries.

"Of course I came," Arthur hugged the younger man, attempting to ease Alfred's fear. "Shh, it's all right, now. I'm here."

"D-Don't leave me… P-Please don't leave me!" Alfred continued to sob.

"I won't. I won't leave you ever again. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Alfred. Forgive me. I knew I shouldn't have left you," Arthur sighed, running his fingers through the American's wheat colored hair. "My beloved…"

Alfred instantly wound down, becoming limp in Arthur's arms. The Englishman kissed Alfred's head.

Damn boss.

Damn meeting.

Damn it!

Damn himself! He should've known better than to leave Alfred alone in this house without making sure that damn Russian was out of his country!

"I'll fucking kill him for this," Arthur murmured.

"Angleterre, what happened here?" a voice came from the doorway.

Arthur turned, Alfred still seemingly lifeless in his arms, to see Francis and Matthew standing before him.

"I had a meeting to go to and there's no doubt in my mind that that fucking Russian did this to him! How dare he attack Alfred when he's at his weakest!" Arthur spat, venom lacing his every word as he brought Alfred closer to him.

"We need to treat his injuries first, if there are any. That is the most important thing," Matthew made his way towards Alfred.

Said American started to stir and sat up slowly when he heard new voices. The second he recognized Matthew and registered the fact that the Canadian was making his way towards him, he jumped out of Arthur's arms and moved away until his back was once again against the wall.

The look of pure terror on Alfred's face was more than enough to piss Arthur off even more at the Russian from yesterday. Seeing Alfred reduced to such a state broke the Englishman's heart to even more pieces.

"Alfred, love, what's wrong? It's only Matthew," Arthur wondered, slowly inching towards the American.

"Yeah, Al. I only want to help," the Canadian looked concerned, beginning to step towards Alfred again.

"D-Don't touch me!" Alfred scurried away from Matthew and clutched onto Arthur again.

Matthew shifted his look to Arthur, his pools of deep blue questioning. Arthur shrugged slightly and proceeded in comforting Alfred, acting as a barrier between the two. Arthur placed his hands on Alfred's face and wiped away the oncoming tears.

"It's all right, Alfred. It'll be all right," Arthur whispered in his sweetest and most gentle tone.

The American nodded but still had that panicked look painted on his face. Arthur helped Alfred to his feet and the duo made their way upstairs and into the bathroom to treat the younger man's injuries. When the two men left, Matthew turned to Francis, genuinely concerned.

Francis could only shake his head, telling Matthew that he didn't know what was going on either. When returned his attention to the stairs, the Frenchman could've sworn that he saw his cobalt orbs shift to a disturbing lavender hue. It lasted only for a few seconds before changing back into their pleasant azure.

The Frenchman rubbed his eyes a bit. He must be seeing things.

In the upstairs bathroom, Arthur pulled out the first aid kit from the medicine cabinet and assisted Alfred in sitting on the toilet. The American was shaking horribly as Arthur applied disinfectant to the wound on Alfred's head, causing said man to hiss in pain. The Englishman placed a large bandage over the cut and moved onto the gash on Alfred's forearm.

He examined it a little before continuing.

It wasn't at all that deep.

Good.

Arthur kneeled down and smeared the disinfectant on the injury and wrapped in white gauze. As Arthur did this, Alfred remained quiet and distant, afraid to speak. So Arthur did.

"Alfred, I need you to be honest with me. Who did this to you?"

Several minutes went by before Alfred even showed signs that he had heard the Brit. And all Alfred did was shake his head.

Arthur sighed, "Alfred, I can't help if you don't tell me who did this to you."

The American repeated his previous action.

"All right then," Arthur placed his hand on Alfred's. "Can you at least tell me what he looked like?"

"He had…" Alfred began, his voice raspy, "purple eyes…"

"Do you remember anything else?" Arthur pressed mildly.

Again, Alfred just simply shook his head. Everything was such a blur. The blow to the head jumbled mostly everything. But there were two features that stood out to Alfred- two characteristics that were impossible to forget.

Those merciless purple eyes glaring daggers at him were one.

And Matthew's voice, thick with anger and abhorrence, whispering these words- the words that would depend if he and Arthur would live or die.

The ultimatum.

_Don't remember._

* * *

><p><strong>All right, now there's some more light shed on Matthew's plans on how to make Alfred crumble. He's an evil bastard, isn't he? Is it a shame to say that it wasn't all that hard to write a sadistic Matthew for this chapter? (After I spent about 2-3 hours getting an insane Matthew pictured in my head and trying to think like him).<strong>

**Phase One: complete.**

**And our blue-eyed Matthew has no clue what had happened earlier that morning. Sad, isn't it?**

**So now Alfred is scared shitless of Matthew (who has no clue why) and Arthur and Francis still think Ivan's behind all of this.**

**More will be revealed soon.**

**Anyway, please review! I enjoy them!**

**This is Crimson signing out!**

**Ja Ne~**


	8. Denial

**Sorry if this isn't the best. Please enjoy! Thanks for those who reviewed, favorited/alerted my story! I love you all!**

**You know the drill, I do not own Hetalia, blah, blah, blah.**

**You get the point :)**

* * *

><p><strong>Blurred<strong>

**Chapter Eight**

**Denial**

Arthur thought it best to not press for further answers. The poor American before was traumatized.

And it was his fault.

All of it.

"I'm so sorry, Alfred. I'm so sorry," Arthur brushed Alfred's bangs back with his hand and kept it there for the longest time. The American didn't know how many times Arthur wished to say sorry. He couldn't say it enough.

The Englishman pulled Alfred into a hug, the American resting his head on Arthur's shoulder.

"It's… all right. …'s not your fault," Alfred mumbled.

"But I feel like it is," Arthur said.

"…'s not… you didn't do this…"

"…then who did?"

At this question, Arthur felt Alfred stiffen once more.

The American shook his head, "…can't tell."

"Why? Why can't you tell me?"

"Because he'd hurt you… and the baby… and me…"

Maybe if he was stubborn enough, Arthur would let it go. The American wasn't going to spill the beans. He just couldn't! It wasn't his own life Alfred was worried about… it was Arthur's and the unborn child in his womb. He wasn't about to let them get hurt. He would rather die!

Unfortunately for him, Arthur was stubborn, too.

"Alfred, nothing is going to happen to us. He won't ever know. I won't tell anyone. You trust me, right?"

The American nodded.

"Then, please. I'm begging you. Tell me," Arthur pressed soothingly, running his fingers through Alfred's hair again.

"It was… Matthew."

Arthur froze.

Matthew and Francis were waiting patiently in the living room, hoping that both the English speaking countries were all right. And their worries were soon put at ease when said men were making their way down the stairs. But something was off. The atmosphere was… tense, heavy.

What had gone on in the other room?

* * *

><p>"<em>It was… Matthew."<em>

_Arthur froze. _

"_Matthew?" Arthur had finally found his voice. "Alfred, how could you say that?"_

"_He really did do it! I'm not lying!" Alfred replied defensively._

"_He is your brother! He wouldn't hurt a fly," Arthur protested._

"_Why don't you believe me?" the American was on the verge of tears again._

_Why wouldn't Arthur believe him? This crushed Alfred. The one person who the American thought he could turn to… was denying his claim. He trusted the Englishman. He confided in those gentle emerald orbs that glistened just as the jewel does and the smile that seemed to truly shine when it was just them alone._

_Why?_

_That was the only question running through Alfred's mind at this point._

"Angleterre, is… everything okay?" Francis wanted to sever the grave mood.

"Everything is fine," Arthur answered rather brusquely.

Alfred remained silent by the Englishman's side. He didn't know what else to do. Alfred didn't want to stand beside Arthur at this very moment but… he figured it was better than being away from the Englishman and in the same room as Matthew.

"Alfred, what's wrong?" Matthew wondered.

"N-Nothing…" Alfred replied quietly.

"Are you sure? Why are you so scared to be near me?"

"Because you hurt me," Alfred responded, though immediately regretted those words.

"Alfred, stop with that nonsense. Matthew did not hurt you," Arthur reprimanded, his tone firmer than he originally intended if it weren't for the mood swings.

Alfred immediately quieted.

The Canadian's azure eyes widened for the slightest second a bit the moment he heard those words and his head started to pound. Matthew removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose at the slight pain that was starting to build up.

"Matthew? Is everything all right?" Francis wondered.

"Y-Yeah… I'm just feeling a bit dizzy. I'll be fine," the Canadian travelled to the bathroom down the hall.

Matthew placed his hands firmly on the sink, leaning onto it for support. A bead of sweat accumulated on his forehead and dripped down the side of his face and the blonde quickly wiped it off. The images of earlier that morning reeled in his mind as he stared at his reflection in the mirror, watching his eyes changing from blue to violet rapidly.

The pain in his head became unbearable and this caused Matthew to sit on the toilet and bury his hands in his hair, gripping at his head and squeezing his eyes shut.

And suddenly, it stopped.

"He put up quite a fight… only to fail," Matthew opened his eyes, revealing a frightening mauve.

The Canadian stepped out of the bathroom and headed towards the front door.

"Matthew? Is everything all right?" Arthur questioned, raising an eyebrow at the fact that the Canadian was leaving.

Matthew gave a sick and twisted smile to the Englishman (which seemed sweet to one who wasn't paying attention) and only nodded. He turned his attention to Alfred and winked at the American, causing Alfred to shudder, before exiting the house.

"Time is on my side; yes it is," Matthew sang as he walked down the street, gazing happily up at the sky. **(1)**

Oh no.

Matthew knew.

* * *

><p>It had been over four months since that day and the strain on Arthur and Alfred's relationship was severing the bond the two shared. The American tried every now and again to try and convince Arthur that Matthew had been the one that attacked him.<p>

But Arthur wasn't buying it.

So Alfred stopped trying all together.

A rounded bump was now Arthur's stomach. Alfred asked questions whenever about the baby he could, trying to ease the atmosphere even the lightest and Arthur would answer them happily. But the tension was still there, lingering like a heavy cloak.

Despite this, Alfred still talked about the baby and all the fun times they would have together when the little infant would grow.

The duo was now sitting in the living room, watching television. However it was interrupted when Arthur let out a small gasp and his hand immediately went to his stomach. That small fluttering…

"What's wrong?" Alfred questioned, wondering what he could do to help.

"The baby… he kicked," Arthur whispered with incredulity.

"He did?" Alfred scooted closer to the Englishman, staring at the bump curiously. "Wow…"

Arthur shifted a bit as the baby kicked a little more at the sound of Alfred's voice. The Englishman watched the younger one talking to his stomach and the baby's kicking became more prominent. It seemed like he loved the sound of his father's voice.

"Is it really kicking?" the American wondered in awe.

Arthur couldn't help but smile. The Englishman took Alfred's hand gently and placed it on his stomach so he could feel the baby kick.

"He likes the sound of your voice. Keep talking," Arthur said.

Alfred paused before speaking, "Hey there, little guy."

Another kick.

Alfred kept talking happily to the round bump and earned kicks each time. Then, Arthur found himself not smiling anymore. He still had yet to discuss with Alfred that the American was the father and not just an older sibling.

But for some odd reason… the older man couldn't bring himself to do it.

Instead, he found himself having different feelings.

The stress was taking its toll.

It was over.

All over.

* * *

><p>"Arthur? Where'd ya go?" Alfred wandered into the living room and was faced with an empty room. The American then made his way upstairs and was about to knock on Arthur's door but paused when he heard the Englishman's voice from behind the door.<p>

"Kiku, I can't do this anymore… I don't know what to do. Without Alfred having his memories, it… complicates things…"

Alfred stepped away from the door before he heard the rest of the conversation. Arthur… didn't want him anymore. He was… letting him go. The American found himself frozen in front of Arthur's door, tuning out the rest of the conversation.

"Alfred?" Arthur was standing in front of him with the door ajar.

Said American backed up significantly.

"What's wrong?"

"You don't… you don't want me? I'm just a… complication?" Alfred murmured. His voice was laced with betrayal and hurt.

"Alfred, no, that's not-"

But the American didn't give him the chance to finish before running out the front door.

* * *

><p><strong>(1): Time is on My Side- Rolling Stones<strong>

**I apologize if this seems a tad bit rushed. It was necessary XD**

**Anyway, I hope you enjoyed! What will happen to Alfie? ****You are more than welcome to guess! :) I'm interested to know what you think and the one whose guess is the closest gets a hug from any Hetalia character of their choice. Everybody needs a hug, right? I know I do :)**

**Please review! They get me through those long and tiring nights of staring at a computer screen for hours on end :)**

**Arigatou~**

**Ja Ne!**


	9. Tears

**All rightie, everyone! This chapter isn't very long but a lot of things happen :) I hope it is to your liking! Now, before we go on any further, this may be the last chapter I will be able to post since school is starting on Monday (for me) and I more than likely won't have time to update. BUT! For giving this story such great feedback, I will try my absolute hardest to get the next chapter out ASAP. Sadly, we are nearing the end. I don't know exactly which chapter but the end is near.**

**However, we are not there yet so I shall post chapters until we reach that point!**

**Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia, blah, blah, blah.**

**Warning: *attempted* angst, language, and death.**

* * *

><p><strong>Blurred<strong>

**Chapter Nine**

**Tears**

"Alfred!" Arthur called, his plea lost in the evening breeze.

But the door slamming was the only reply he received.

Just like last time.

No! Arthur wasn't going to lose the American again! It was just not going to happen!

The tea lover called Kiku once more, telling the Japanese man the situation, becoming more and more panicked with each word he spoke.

_"All right, Arthur-san, calm down. It's not good for the baby or your own health. Francis, Ludwig, and I will be there shortly."_

Arthur was set against the idea of Francis coming over (as usual) but he needed all the help he could get. He was in no position to argue. However, Arthur had no idea how long "soon" was. Minutes, hours? But with each tick of the clock, Arthur's heart was sinking and Alfred was becoming further and further out of his reach.

A knock at the door tore Arthur from his thoughts.

The Englishman practically ripped the door off its hinges when he opened it, revealing Kiku, Francis, and Ludwig and their rather shocked expressions at the sudden act. Ludwig seemed to be the only one who was a little taken aback when he saw Arthur's stomach, being the only one out of the group who hadn't been told of the pregnancy.

The other countries just figured he was gaining weight.

Without further ado, Arthur let them inside, questioning Matthew's whereabouts.

"He said he wasn't feeling well," Francis answered. "He's been acting so strange lately."

Arthur only nodded, more preoccupied with finding Alfred.

"Did you see what direction he ran off in?" Kiku asked.

"No," Arthur shook his head, taking his seat on the couch. "He could be anywhere in town by now."

"Think, Arthur. Where would he go? You know him better than anyone," Ludwig pressed, recovered from the earlier surprise.

"No. I don't know him. He could've gone anywhere."

"Alfred never ran away as a child?" it was Francis's turn to question.

The Englishman pursed his lips, "Well, yes. But it was always to the same place- a park about four or five miles from here."

"It's a start," Ludwig nodded. "I'll take Francis with me. Kiku,"

The Japanese man nodded, knowing what Ludwig meant, "I'll call you if Alfred turns up."

The two men then exited, heading towards the park.

* * *

><p>Alfred sat himself on a bench, the spring breeze playing with his hair. The American was all alone in the park, the swings creaking with the wind. He didn't know what to do. He didn't know where else to go. But when he passed the park, it seemed to be calling out to him.<p>

This place was… comforting, in a sense. Alfred closed his eyes, sobbing, witnessing a blurry scene played in his head, his mind grasping for something that was well out of reach.

"_Alfred," a hand rested on the child's shoulder._

_The American child looked up, meeting the eyes of Arthur. Alfred grinned, despite the unhappy look on Arthur's face, "Oh. Hey, Artie."_

"_Hello, Alfred. Mind telling me what you're doing?"_

"_Just… hanging around. I like it here."_

"_Alfred, how many times have I told you to stop running off whenever I turn my back? Just tell me that you're coming here and I'll gladly let you go."_

"_Really? You mean it?" Alfred asked enthusiastically._

"_Of course," Arthur smiled._

A car pulled over to the curb, shining its headlights on Alfred. The American shielded his face with his arm, blinking rapidly to try and adjust. He then felt a hand placed gently on his shoulder and the teen whipped his head around to face the unknown person.

"Are you all right?"

It was an older man in his mid-fifties at most.

"I-I'm fine," Alfred replied, wiping his eyes with his sleeve.

"Well, you don't look fine," the man said, ignoring that he found Alfred's accent odd. "Come with me. You are more than welcome to stay at my house tonight."

Alfred simply followed the man, muttering his thanks.

* * *

><p>The elder man's home was quaint, giving off a warm feeling. The man had introduced himself as Brent Ackerley and his wife, a very mild-mannered woman, was Richelle.<p>

"This is Alfred. I've invited him to stay for the night. He doesn't have anywhere else to go," Brent explained to his wife.

"Very well, then. It's nice to meet you, Alfred," she smiled. "Are you hungry?"

"No, thank you though. I'm just tired," Alfred shook his head.

"Richelle, darling, why don't you show Alfred where he'll be sleeping; I'll finish the dishes," Brent offered, taking his spouse's place at the sink.

The elder woman smiled and beckoned Alfred to follow her down the hall and the American complied.

"You'll be staying in our son's room," Richelle smiled, opening the door.

"Oh, I-I don't wanna put anybody out," Alfred said.

Richelle's smile seemed to dim a little, "He doesn't live here anymore. He moved away years ago."

Alfred nodded, deciding it best not to discuss it further.

"Hmm, you seem to be about my son's size so maybe some of his old clothes will fit you," she sifted through the dresser drawers, pulling out a simple white shirt and sweatpants.

Alfred took them, "Thank you."

"Get some rest, love. We'll see you in the morning," Richelle then left.

The American's breath hitched in his throat when he heard the name.

Love.

Arthur always called him that…

He could practically feel the Englishman's lithe and gentle fingers brushing his hair back and see his jewel eyes sparkling. Alfred felt a few tears slip down his face at the sensations, whimpers escaping his throat.

After changing, the blonde man crawled into bed, breathing in the unfamiliar scents. It didn't smell of vacancy or of age of disuse; it smelled fresh as if the bedding was washed on a regular basis. He held his bomber jacket close, the only known scent around him. Alfred buried his head in the pillow, blocking out images of Arthur.

But the American found himself breaking down anyway.

* * *

><p>It couldn't have been more than a few hours before Alfred woke to the sound of a gunshot. He slipped out of the room, peering around the corner and was horrified at what he was faced with.<p>

A brunette man with jade eyes held Brent at gunpoint while the elder was holding his wife's corpse, the blood running over his hands. The assailant pulled the trigger, the sound thundering in Alfred's ears. Brent's lifeless body collapsed to the floor with a _thud._

"No!" Alfred cried, running to them. "Why did you do that?"

The American glared daggers but recoiled the second that face registered in his mind.

Antonio.

The Spaniard was the one who had killed the two elders.

"Antonio… why…?" the American whispered.

"I'm sorry, Alfred," Antonio replied, his eyes heavy with sorrow as he placed the barrel to Alfred's head.

The American waited for the pain, bidding silent farewells to Arthur and the baby.

* * *

><p>Ludwig and Francis arrived back at Arthur's, both watching the Englishman carefully.<p>

"Where's Alfred?" Arthur asked, expecting to see the American when they walked in.

"Angleterre-," Francis started, only to be interrupted by the shorter man.

"Where is he?" the Englishman demanded.

"This is all we found," Ludwig held out a recognizable item.

A bomber jacket.

Alfred's bomber jacket.

Blood stained the piece of clothing and rips and tears ruined it even more. With shaky hands, Arthur took it, his heart pounding in his ears. He brought the jacket to his face, inhaling Alfred's smell. Convulsions rippled through Arthur's body as he slowly fell to his knees.

His body became numb with pain yet feeling every stab, every ache. Recognition of the situation was like a poison in veins; it was destroying his soul and dreams of the future with his and Alfred's son shattered like glass, the shards too small to ever have any hope of putting back together.

"He's not dead… he's not dead…" Arthur sobbed, convincing himself rather than anyone else in the room.

But what other proof did he need?

Arthur's baby bird had fallen from his nest.

And he had let him go.

* * *

><p>"Good of you to come, Antonio. And just in time, too," the blonde chuckled.<p>

"I don't have time for your smart remarks, Matthew. I brought Alfred just like you wanted," Antonio spat.

"Well aren't we feisty today? All right; a deal's a deal. He's over there," Matthew's eyes glinted wickedly as he pointed to a corner of the abandoned room where Lovino Vargas was lying unconscious, bound by his arms and legs.

A disoriented Alfred was led to a chair where his hands were tied behind his back.

"Lovi, Lovi, wake up," Antonio coaxed the Italian.

Honey eyes flittered open, their vision shifting in and out of focus before centering on Antonio. The Italian was in no position to rant at the Spaniard and just simply fell into Antonio's arms, whispering the Spaniard's name longingly. The Spaniard tenderly touched the dark bruises marring his lover's face and wiped some of the dry blood clean.

Antonio lifted Lovino off the floor, but not before cutting the ropes with a pocketknife.

"It's a shame, really. You've not only killed two civilians, and allowed the love of your life to be captured and injured, but you've betrayed one of your fellow countries. Bravo, Antonio. Bra-fucking-vo," Matthew clapped exaggeratedly.

_That's what you think_, Antonio thought, making his way towards the door.

"Oh, and Antonio?" Matthew had his back turned to the Spaniard.

Antonio merely stopped, showing the sadistic Canadian he was listening.

"Don't tell the cops; because I will find out. And you can kiss your precious Lovi goodbye," Matthew threatened.

And the Spaniard knew it wasn't an empty one.

* * *

><p>Ludwig and Kiku were thinking of who could've done this- of who could be so twisted to take Alfred's life. Ivan was definitely a prime suspect. The Russian always hated Alfred but the other nations never thought it would be to this extent. And now, here they were, bouncing back from this huge blow.<p>

Arthur had now made it past the first stage: denial.

The Englishman had now moved on to the second: grief.

Arthur had been crying for over two hours now, Francis's attempts to calm him remaining futile. The fact that Arthur was going to be a single parent and that their son was going to grow up without a father...

...was too much.

_Knock knock._

A visitor? At this time of night?

Ludwig proceeded to answer the door and was confronted by a certain Russian.

Speak of the devil.

Upon seeing Ivan, Arthur nearly lunged for the taller man, his green eyes blazing. It took both Francis and Ludwig to hold the Englishman back to prevent him from causing harm to himself and the baby.

"You son of a bitch! How could you! You fucking took Alfred away from me! From me and our son! You sick bastard! I hate you!" Arthur vented, tears streaming from his eyes.

Ivan had that placid smile on his face, "It was not I who harmed Alfred."

Arthur stopped struggling and simply glowered, "You're fucking _lying_. You're lying, I know it!"

"I would not lie to you about this. Although I may not care for Alfred, I would not attack him while he is unable to defend himself. I do have some morals," Ivan shook his head.

Maybe the Russian did have a good side.

"Besides, it would make things less fun," Ivan responded truthfully.

Good side: terminated.

"All right, Ivan. Let's say you're telling the truth; if you're not the one, who else would attack Alfred?" Ludwig questioned.

"I said this before and I'll say it again: no one suspects the quiet ones," Ivan's smile disappeared just as Kiku was calling Arthur over to the Englishman's computer.

Arthur hurried over and was staring at a black screen with the other countries in the room.

"What's wrong?" Arthur asked.

"I was just looking at a map of your town and this appeared," Kiku replied.

On the screen, a light was suddenly lit, shining down on a man in a chair. The man's face was hidden by a bag that appeared to be made of cloth and was slumped forward, obviously unconscious.

"Welcome, Arthur," a man's voice could be heard, full of twisted glee. "Ah, and you have guests; how wonderful!"

"Who is this?" the Englishman demanded.

"Ah, there it is- the same old question. But I suppose after all these years I should be used to it. Not so invisible anymore, am I?"

"Matthew?" Francis was the first to guess, causing all heads in the room (excluding Ivan's) to turn to him.

"Thank you, Francis, for answering the most fucking obvious question in the world," Matthew stepped into the light, leaning on the seated man's shoulder.

All eyes were back on the computer screen, watching Matthew fretfully. The Canadian was dressed in all black and his eyes were shimmering a sinful amethyst, no longer hiding behind glasses.

"I think you lost something, Arthur," Matthew looked at the Englishman. "Maybe… a pretty baby bird?"

Matthew removed the bag from the man's head and Arthur felt his stomach lurch and the baby kicking in rhythm with his mother's rapidly beating heart.

There he was.

Alfred.

His baby bird.

His broken baby bird.

* * *

><p><strong>Okay, that's it. It's over. It's all over.<strong>

**Arthur: Crimson! You'd better not end the story on that!**

**I was just kidding, Artie. Calm down or you're sure to break a blood vessel. Remember what I said before? The end is "near."**

**Arthur: *grumbles***

**Anyway, on that note, Matthew now has Alfred in his grasp. What will happen next? Will Alfred make it out alive? Will Arthur and the others be able to rescue him? Why am I asking you all these questions?**

**Review to find out what happens next!**

**Arigatou~**

**Ja Ne!**


	10. War

**I was feeling very generous (bored) and I decided to post another chapter!**

**Arthur: But you posted one yesterday.**

**Me: Why are you complaining?**

**Arthur: I'm not.**

**Me: Good because I don't think the others are *nervous laugh* Right? ^_^;;**

**Anyway, as I was saying before I was so _rudely_ interrupted, *glances at Arthur* I decided to post another chapter; maily because my brain said "write and forget summer homework." Stupid involuntary writing impulses... Now, there is a fight scene and I'm sorry if it is not up to par with other fight scenes in other fics. I don't write out fights very often and they're far too complicated and troublesome.**

**I hope you enjoy anyway!**

**Disclaimer: I do not in any way, shape or form own Hetalia. But I am working on that.**

**Warning: *attempted* angst, language, violence, etc. (you get the point)**

* * *

><p><strong>Blurred<strong>

**Chapter Ten**

**War**

"Matthew, how could you- I thought- I thought it was Ivan!" Arthur said.

"Ivan was trying to warn you imbeciles!" Matthew cackled. "It's a shame you didn't listen to him. Now Alfred is going to pay the ultimate price."

Arthur turned to look at Ivan but the Russian had suddenly vanished.

"Why are you doing this, Matthew? What happened to you?" Francis questioned, not wanting to see the pitiless look in his lover's eyes.

No.

No, that wasn't the sweet Canadian he fell in love with. The man they were watching was a monster. The Canadian's voice wasn't the gentle tone it always held, even if he was angered. His eyes were wild and bloodthirsty as he looked at them like they were a piece of meat.

Matthew's body had become nothing but an empty shell for this man to wreak havoc in.

"Might as well not call me Matthew; he's not here. And he's not coming back," the Canadian said.

"Why are you doing this?" Ludwig repeated Francis's earlier question.

"And here comes the interrogation with the same inane questions. You all watch far too many movies. Too bad those movies have a happy ending. This one doesn't."

The baby in Arthur's womb was kicking ferociously now. He was sensing his mother's distress and didn't like it. Arthur placed his hand on his stomach in attempt to calm it but to no avail.

"Now, gentlemen, kick back and enjoy the show. It's going to be one hell of a ride," Matthew sneered.

"Alfred! Alfred, wake up!" Arthur cried, hoping the American would hear him. He had to help Alfred get out of there. The American was strong- much stronger than Matthew. But Alfred was unaware of his own power.

Matthew chuckled, deciding it was time for the fun to begin. "You heard the man. Wake up!"

The Canadian landed a solid blow to Alfred's face, jolting his brother awake and his glasses clattered to the floor. The pain came soon after he regained consciousness, causing Alfred to whimper a bit as blood seeped from the crevice of his mouth. It tasted horrible in his mouth, a taste he couldn't quite place. Alfred's hazy vision made his head swim (or was the blow to the head he received earlier from Antonio the cause of this?)

Nevertheless, Alfred was completely out of it.

Until he heard a voice.

A voice that seemed to come from the shadows.

An angelic voice.

One that he hadn't heard in far too long.

"_Alfred!"_

"Arthur…" he mumbled, his voice barely audible.

"_Alfred, wake up! Please!"_

Matthew remained hidden in the darkness, watching this unfold with an amused look.

"Arthur… Arthur, is that you?" Alfred lifted his head and gazed at the computer screen.

"_Yes, love. It is."_

"Where am I?" the American was now fully conscious and was beginning to panic and tug at the ropes that were binding his hands together as he scrutinized his surroundings. "Arthur, help me! Please!"

Tears cascaded down Alfred's flushed face as his head fell forward, the tears glistening in the light. It tore Arthur apart to see the younger man like this. He hated to watch Alfred breaking down like this, crying his name and begging for the Englishman to save him.

"_Alfred. Alfred, love, look at me,"_ Arthur said calmly though his tone betrayed his feelings.

The American's head lifted up and his ocean eyes peered at the computer screen. He caught the sad expression that was painted on Arthur's face even with that smile.

"_I will come for you, Alfred. You believe me, don't you?"_

Alfred nodded his head shakily.

"_I need you to be brave, love. Can you do that for me?"_

Alfred nodded once again.

"_I love you, Alfred. So much."_

The American's head snapped up. Had he heard right? Arthur said he loved him. Alfred felt like crying again, this time out of happiness. It felt like he had waited an eternity to hear those words. The younger didn't know what to say; so he said the first thing that came into his mind:

"I love you, too."

"Aw, how touching. I think I'm starting to tear up," Matthew's voice was full of sarcasm as he slowly emerged from the obscurities of the room, twirling a bat in his right hand.

Arthur's eyes widened and he cringed as he heard the bat make contact with Alfred's body, hearing a sickening crack in the process.

"However I think this will cheer me up," Matthew struck Alfred again. "If you're going to come and get him, Arthur, you'd better hurry or you'll be arranging a funeral and celebrating the birth of your son alone."

The American cried out in pain, his yells ripping through his throat as Matthew continued this relentless beating. The wood began splintering against Alfred's body, muffling out the crack of Alfred's bones.

The screen went black.

Arthur bolted to the door but Kiku grabbed his arm.

"No, Arthur-san, you must not go. You'd be playing right into his hands."

"Let me go! I have to save him!" Arthur tried prying his arm from the Japanese man's tight grip.

"We'll go," Ludwig spoke up, referring to him and Francis.

"But you don't even know where they're at. If you search blindly, Alfred will be dead by the time you get there," Kiku reasoned.

"I believe I can be of assistance," a new voice came from the doorway.

All heads whipped around as Antonio was standing in the doorjamb with a half-conscious Lovino Vargas in his arms.

"What do you mean you can help us?" Arthur watched as Antonio placed his Italian lover on the couch.

"Because," the brunette began, "I'm the one who took Alfred to him."

"_You did what!"_ Arthur's voice raised an octave.

"Matthew was holding Lovino hostage-"

"That is still not a satisfactory reason for me!"

"You didn't allow me to finish," Antonio said coldly, hinting at Arthur to shut up. "I managed to buy Alfred some time and a means of escape."

"How?" Arthur wondered.

Antonio smiled.

* * *

><p>Matthew had stopped the unrelenting attacks due to the bat beginning to break and the fact that he wanted Alfred to writhe in pain for as long as possible. The Canadian had left the room and had gone to his car that was parked in the back of the abandoned building.<p>

Alfred sobbed quietly though on the inside he was screaming for help… for Arthur. But he had to be brave. Arthur was counting on him to be strong. The American shifted uncomfortably in the chair and wiggled his wrists. He hissed in pain as the rope began biting into his skin and cutting it.

Blood was dripping onto his white shirt from his cuts and battered face and sweat drenched the clothing.

Alfred took in wheezy breaths and shifted around again. Was he sitting on something? The American scooted to the very back of the chair to give his hands better access so he could grab whatever he was sitting on. Alfred felt something sticking out of his back pocket.

It was cold like metal.

The American succeeded in pulling the item out and felt it in his hands, trying to get a mental image.

It was a pocketknife.

How in the world did it get there?

Did Antonio slip it into his pocket while he was unconscious? Regardless of who had done it, Alfred was completely in their debt. He thanked them mentally and cautiously opened it, the blade shining in the light. The American proceeded in severing the ropes but halted when he heard the door open.

Alfred hid the knife in the palms of his hands, making sure he had a good grip on it before resuming the slumped over position he was in before Matthew left.

"Miss me?" Matthew smirked, now holding a metal bat in his hands. "This should last a whole lot longer."

The American raised his head and glared at the man who was his flesh and blood.

"Such a ferocious look in your eyes, Alfred. I suggest you straighten up-"

"My life means nothing to me," Alfred growled. His sky blue eyes had darkened to an ocean hue.

The intensity in Alfred's voice made him sound like a completely different person. It had deepened a little but enough for Matthew to notice.

"Does your son's life matter?" Matthew raised an eyebrow.

"My son? What're you talking about? I don't have a son," the American's eyes lightened with confusion.

"Oh, yes you do. The child in Arthur's womb? That's your son," Matthew replied, now wanting to screw with the American's head.

"No, it can't be. Arthur's boyfriend is the father- not me," Alfred stared at the Canadian with a perplexed look.

"You truly are an idiot, aren't you? Haven't you figured it out yet? You are Arthur's boyfriend. Why do you think he isn't happy when you're around? Why do you think he seems so sad all the time? It's because you forgot about him and your son! That's why he said you 'complicated things.' He was going to make you leave. He hates you!"

"_No!"_ Alfred's yell echoed against the walls.

"Oh, yes, Alfred. It's true. All of it is true. And not only will I be doing Arthur a favor by getting rid of you, I will have gotten rid of the most powerful country in the world and then I can work my way to the top by destroying the others. No one likes you, Alfred. You're loud, obnoxious and overbearing. Everyone will be glad that you're gone."

Alfred lowered his head and his shoulders shook a bit.

Was he chuckling?

The American lifted his head, his eyes back to their ocean blue. "It must really suck to be left behind in the dust, huh? You're jealous because I was always one step ahead of you in the game and you could never seem to catch up to me. How does it feel to be living in the shadow of your own brother?

"You're a coward, Matthew. You've stooped so low to attack the most powerful country in the world when he can't defend himself. And even if you do manage to get rid of me, there are still the other nations you have to worry about. You'd cause a World War III and there's no way in _hell_ you're getting out of that alive."

This earned Alfred a strike to his ribcage with the bat, cracking another rib. The American coughed up drops of blood as he felt the bones crunch and grind against one another in his body.

Alfred didn't know who was telling him to say these things but he trusted that voice. It was telling him to try and get a rise out of Matthew.

And it was working.

_Extremely well, at that,_ Alfred thought while gritting his teeth.

"You're pretty arrogant, aren't you?" Matthew was breathing deeply, struggling to keep his anger under control.

"You're attacking the most powerful nation in the world when he can't fight back. If that's not arrogance, I don't know what is."

Alfred began fidgeting with the knife again and started to cut the ropes. He watched Matthew all the while, smirking at him. The Canadian's blood began to boil as he struck Alfred again; a filter of red was all he was seeing as he was blinded by rage at his American brother's antics.

He repeated this process even when the chair Alfred was seated on fell over. Matthew didn't care. The combined sounds of Alfred crying out in pain, the metal bat clinking, and the shattering of his bones was like a symphony to him. It was calming. He was enjoying this far more than he should have.

Despite the pain, Alfred continued cutting the ropes binding his hands slowly but surely. Just as he severed the last one and lifted himself off the floor, a blow to his torso sent him skidding across the ground and coming to a stop when he hit the wall.

The American panted heavily, trying to stand on his shaking legs.

Matthew picked up the knife off the floor, examining it. "Where in the hell did you get this?"

"Doesn't matter, I'm free," Alfred said, steadying himself.

"You're a cornered rat. You can't beat me," Matthew spat, dropping the bat to the floor.

"You'll never really know for sure until I try."

"By all means try."

Alfred and Matthew charged for each other at the same time, the adrenaline making the former forget his injuries for the time being. Matthew was the first to attack and Alfred swiftly evaded it, the knife whizzing past and only slicing strands of his wheat colored hair.

Alfred swung and Matthew ducked.

The American then brought his knee up and met with the muscled flesh of Matthew's stomach.

The air left Matthew's lungs just as quickly as it came and the Canadian toppled to the floor, letting out a soft "oof." The American hit him harder than he thought.

Alfred was oblivious to the immense power he wielded.

Matthew wriggled on the floor as he tried to catch his breath and Alfred was leaning against the wall, the pain of his injuries returning. The Canadian stood, coming back for more. His brother, however, could not see clearly without his glasses but was equally ready.

They lunged for each other again, aiming to cause more harm to their enemy. Alfred was giving it all he had in each punch, kick, and block.

So was his brother.

With another punch thrown that connected with Matthew's jaw, the Canadian slid on the floor, kicking up dust. Matthew grabbed the bat nearby and began fighting with both weapons, now becoming a triple threat to Alfred.

Alfred's (sudden) inexperience with fighting caused him to make sloppy moves.

And Matthew didn't hesitate to dig the knife into Alfred's side.

Alfred hissed but grabbed Matthew's wrist and forced him to pull the knife out.

The blood flowed freely from the wound, running down Alfred's leg.

As their quarrel continued, the American was more focused on dodging the knife rather than the bat and Matthew's kicks.

However, it cost him when Matthew had managed to land a blow to Alfred's head with the bat.

Alfred collapsed to the floor, his mind drifting.

"Say goodbye," Matthew drew back his right hand, the one that sported the knife.

"I don't think so," a gloved hand grasped Matthew's wrist, twisting it such a way that made Matthew let go of the knife.

Ludwig struck the Canadian on the back of his neck, automatically causing Matthew become nothing more than a blonde mess on the floor.

"He's over here!" he heard someone call.

Francis?

Then, an angelic face with blonde unkempt hair and dazzling green eyes was the only thing he saw before losing himself in the familiar abyss of shadows once more.

"Alfred!"

* * *

><p><strong>Fight scene written. Fight scene failed. Can I get a round of applause please?<strong>

***a tomato lands on my head***

**I'm gonna get you for that, Romano! Well, we had a bit more action in this chapter and a lot of abuse.**

**Ah, brotherly love /shot. **

**Oh and I wanna make a quick DBZ reference (for those of you that watch it). The whole "trying" bit came from the DBZ movie Cooler's Revenge so I gotta give credit to it.**

**I hope you enjoyed! Please review! They mean alot!**

**Arigatou~**

**This is Crimson-chan signing out!**

**Ja Ne!**


	11. Risen

**All righty then! Last chapter! Unless I decide to write an epilogue (which I probably will). I apologize if this seems a tad bit rushed. Please don't flame. I'm so sorry but with school, I knew I wouldn't have any time to write this thorougly like I wanted so I just wanted to get this out now before I'm swamped with even more homework... So once again, I apologize and I hope you enjoy anyway.**

**Warning(s): USxUK**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia so stop asking! XD**

* * *

><p><strong>Blurred<strong>

**Chapter Eleven**

**Risen**

His mind was floating but his body felt… heavy.

A small grunt resounded from his throat and he stirred a little, immediately feeling the soothing sensation of a hand running through his hair.

"Alfred?"

Sapphire eyes flittered open, scrutinizing the room hazily. "W-Where am I…? What happened…?" his voice was raspy from lack of use.

"You're at the hospital. You were in a coma," the voice broke between every few words.

"Arthur…?"

"Yes. I'm here," the Englishman looked as if he was about to cry but kept his smile.

"How long…?"

"Five months," Arthur replied.

Alfred's eyes drifted to Arthur's stomach which was twice as big as it was before. The American had a soft smile on his face. The baby would be here any day now. Alfred then began to sit up with Arthur helping him.

"Easy, now," the Englishman reprimanded lightly.

Once doing so, Alfred began gazing at Arthur fondly… the way the American always looked at the Briton when the former saw him. Arthur thought it was nothing and continued brushing back Alfred's hair (which had grown a bit in the last five months) until the latter clutched his wrist gently.

"What's wrong, Alfred?" Arthur wondered.

"I told you I'd return," Alfred simply said and let those words register in the Englishman's head.

It took a few moments, a few more moments than Alfred would've liked but allowed Arthur to take it all in. Arthur instantly wrapped his arms around the American's neck, sobbing what sounded like "I missed you."

"I missed you, too."

The warm tears tickled Alfred's skin as they ran down but this only made Alfred embrace Arthur tighter but still mindful of Arthur's swollen stomach.

And, for what seemed like had been an eternity, their lips met in a gentle, fervent kiss. Time stood still for the duo as they reveled in their moment of bliss and Alfred's hand rested softly on Arthur's womb and the Englishman buried his hands in Alfred's wheat colored hair.

Though they didn't want to, but were running out of breath, the two English speaking countries broke apart, staring into the other's eyes. They had waited for this moment.

"Ahem," a voice interrupted their moment.

Ludwig was standing there with Feliciano, Francis, Kiku, Antonio and Lovino and the German man raised an eyebrow.

"Are we interrupting anything?"

"Umm, yeah!" Alfred laughed jokingly.

"Oh, Ludwig, let them have their gorgeous reunion!" Francis said with passion.

"It's great to have you back, Alfred-kun," Kiku had a small smile.

"It's great to be back, guys. Thanks for taking care of me," Alfred grinned. "But wait," it then disappeared, "what about Matthew? What happened to him?"

"He's in jail. They wanted to know if you were going to press charges against him," Arthur replied, the mood dampening a little.

"Oh. I see. Tell him to plead insanity," Alfred said calmly.

"Plead insanity? But Alfred, Matthew isn't insane… is he?"

"That wasn't Matthew; you all know that. I don't want to press charges. He's my brother and I can't do that to him," Alfred answered with conviction.

This statement caused everyone to have some sort of surprised if not impressed look on their face.

"Anyway! How's our son?" Alfred quickly changed the topic.

Arthur blinked a few times but smiled and took Alfred's hand and placed it atop his stomach, "He gives me no rest- like his father."

The American felt the baby kick and took great joy in this.

"He loves the sound of your voice, Alfred. Try talking to him," Arthur urged as the American scooted forward and began talking to the large round bump.

"Hey there, little guy! This is your awesomely awesome Dad speaking! You'd better get here soon because your mom and I wanna see ya!"

Arthur rolled his eyes playfully at that but enjoyed this moment nonetheless.

* * *

><p>Two weeks had passed since Alfred had returned from the hospital and that day the American practically began treating Arthur like a king. Though Arthur would often (mildly) refuse the pampering but enjoyed it.<p>

A glass then slipped from Arthur's hands, shattering and sends shards of glass everywhere. His hand went to his stomach and placed the other on the counter, breathing deeply as a thin sheet of sweat began to accumulate on his head.

Hearing the noise, Alfred sprinted down the stairs, "Arthur, are you okay!"

"A-Alfred… the baby… the baby's coming!" Arthur gritted his teeth in pain as the contractions started.

Alfred froze for a minute.

The baby…

Coming…

The baby was coming!

Alfred grabbed the car keys and rushed out to the car to start it while Arthur inhaled and exhaled rhythmically to try and ease the pain and keep himself calm.

The American returned and guided the Briton to the vehicle and sped off to the hospital.

* * *

><p>Alfred was pacing impatiently outside the operating room, Francis and the others watching him.<p>

"I'm sure he's fine, Alfred. They're preforming a C-section. He'll be all right," Kiku broke the heavy silence although he along with the other men in the room expected this.

Alfred was going to be a father.

All fathers were uneasy at this time, especially when they couldn't be there with their loved ones. The American couldn't keep himself from worrying. They had rushed Arthur in the operating room so fast…

If anything happened to his lover or his son…

They had been in there for over two hours already…

Then, everyone went still as the sound they were waiting for could be heard.

Crying.

And it was a beautiful, strong cry at that.

Alfred stood motionless, listening to the strong sound that was the sign of life.

"Mr. Jones, you may come in now," a nurse opened the door after a few minutes of tense silence.

The American strolled in and hesitated ever so slightly. Arthur gazed at the younger man with exhausted emerald orbs and a weary smile and was holding a bundle in a blue blanket in his arms.

"It's all right, Alfred. Come and see him… he's so beautiful," Arthur insisted tenderly.

Alfred was at Arthur's side in an instant, and found himself gasping to quietly.

Arthur was right. They're son was indeed a sight to see. The baby's skin was a creamy shade and his mop of hair was a sandy blonde, nearly rivaling his father's.

Alfred softly placed his head next to Arthur's, and sighed in content, "You're right, Arthur. He's perfect. Just like you."

The infant then began to stir in his mother's arms and slowly opened his eyes, revealing the most stunning shade of teal.

The baby watched his parents curiously, finding the duo intriguing.

"Hello, little one. You decided to wake up, huh?" Arthur smiled as the infant tried understanding what was said.

Alfred gently placed his hand atop his son's head. "Hey there, son."

The baby's eyes shifted over to the voice, trying to find the source. It sounded so familiar…

"Alfred… what would you like to name him?" Arthur asked, watching his American lover.

"Why don't you name him?"

Arthur shook his head and shot Alfred an insistent look.

"All right," Alfred sighed a little, giving in. "How about Ayden?"

"Sounds perfect. Ayden it is," Arthur nodded, placing a kiss on their son's forehead.

Alfred made a vow to himself that day.

He would take care of his family.

And teach his baby bird to fly.

* * *

><p><strong>That's it! It's over! *is currently writing epilogue*<strong>

**I hope you all enjoyed and thanks for sticking with this!**

**I apologize for the shortness of this chapter but you know the reason. Please forgive me and please understand. I hate this so much... school isn't being my friend right now...**

**Anyway, now I am asking you, my faithful readers, if I should write a sequel! Would you like that?**

**And if you want me to write a sequel, I need help with ideas! . Please help!**

**Reviews are love and are much appreciated!**

**I thank you all once again!**

**Arigatou~**

**And Ja Ne~!**


	12. Epilogue: Perfect

**It's not very long but are epilogues ever really are? Well, not the ones I've read. Anyway, I hope you enjoy the last installment of _Blurred! _I love all my lovely readers so this chapter is dedicated to you! Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia and never will! Sadly... *sniffle sniffle***

**Warnings: none, just fluff XD**

* * *

><p><strong>Blurred<strong>

**Epilogue**

**Perfect**

"I'm home!" Alfred called out, entering the home he shared with his family.

"Father!" a boy exclaimed and tackled the American.

Alfred tumbled to the floor, never ceasing to be surprised at his son's immense strength. The boy grinned his father's grin, causing Alfred to laugh.

"Hey there, champ!"

"Hello, Father!" Ayden, now at the tender age of four, beamed. His teal eyes sparkled with the same exuberance that nearly outshone his father's and he had inherited Arthur's accent, even if it was just slightly. The British-American child now officially represented the St. John of the Virgin Islands, Arthur and Alfred figuring this out soon after Ayden's birth.

Alfred mussed the child's sandy hair and a single strand rose in defiance.

"Father, Papa and I did lots of fun stuff today! And Uncle Francis and Uncle Matthew came over to play video games with me! And I beat them!" Ayden smiled, still hugging his American father.

"Well that sounds like a lot of fun!" Alfred lifted himself off the floor with Ayden in his arms.

"It really was!" Ayden replied.

"Where's your mother?" Alfred whispered to his son.

"Oh," Ayden giggled a little, "Papa's in the kitchen."

"It's about time you made it home, love," Arthur was leaning against the wall casually with a smile on his face. "We were beginning to wonder if Ayden and I would have to decide dinner without you. And you remember what happened last time, right?"

Alfred shuddered a little and put Ayden down.

He still couldn't get the taste of Arthur's putrid cooking out of his mouth.

"I think you did that on purpose…"

Arthur smirked knowingly, "You know I only do it out of love," and sauntered over to his husband of three years, hooking his arms around Alfred's neck and placed a gentle kiss on the American's lips.

"Ew!" Ayden covered his eyes, pretending to gag. "Yucky!"

"Careful, Artie. We do have an audience," Alfred whispered teasingly against those soft pale lips.

"Then I guess I'll cook dinner again," Arthur muttered, brushing his lips against Alfred's once more.

"Ayden, what would like for dinner?" Alfred turned his head towards his son.

"Hmm," this caused the child to have a thoughtful look on his face. "How about hamburgers? Can we have hamburgers, Papa? Please?"

Arthur looked a bit hesitant.

"I'm sure Father wants some, too! Don't you, Daddy?" Ayden turned to Alfred for support.

"Of course I do!" Alfred grinned and rested his hand on his son's head.

That hesitant expression didn't budge.

"_Please,_ Papa?" Ayden pouted a little, one that was akin to Alfred's when the American was a child.

"Ayden, don't whine," Arthur reprimanded.

"Who's whining? It's manly complaining!" Ayden grinned.

Arthur shot Alfred a dark look.

"Don't look at me! I had nothing to do with that!" Alfred laughed, clearly lying.

The Englishman rolled his eyes and sighed. "Fine. We can have hamburgers tonight."

"All right!" Alfred and Ayden cheered in unison.

Arthur couldn't resist the urge to smile at his husband and son.

Everything was perfect.

Everything was the way it was supposed to be.

* * *

><p><strong>All right, that's it! It's officially over! Little Ayden- I just wanna hug him! Who's with me? XD<strong>

**Ayden: *grins* I like hugs!**

**I am planning on writing a sequel but am having trouble thinking of a decent plot... stupid writer's block...**

**Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this story!**

**Thank you so much for reading!**

**Arigatou~**

**And for one final time until we meet again: Ja Ne~**

**Ayden: *waves* Bye!**


	13. Side Story: Happy Birthday

**Well this is rather unexpected. Why am I posting a new chapter on my old story, I haven't a clue. I just had this idea literally smack me in the face today so I had to add it despite it's short length. Inspiration for _Clarity _is way low so I don't know when that story will be updated... I'm trying though; I didn't want to post an author's note as a chapter (because I find that annoying) and ask for help on it. Ideas for it are much appreciated.**

**Enjoy this little side story of _Blurred._**

* * *

><p><strong>Side Story:<strong>

**Happy Birthday**

Arthur wandered (waddled) into the hospital in the early morning of July 4th- he couldn't sleep and with the persuasion of his friends, he had been convinced to go home and get some proper rest. He would've if said rest wasn't denying him. The receptionist at the front desk greeted him with a sympathetic smile before continuing paperwork and Arthur returned it.

Reaching the fourth floor, Arthur entered Alfred's room and expected to his unconscious lover but nearly cried out in surprise instead.

Alfred was staring out the window with an expression full of wonder and fascination. His eyes darted as he watched cars and planes pass by and his eyes narrowed to try and get a better look at the miniscule citizens down below.

"A-Alfred?" Arthur was still standing in the doorway, completely stupefied.

He's awake…!

Said American's head whipped around and instantly a grin flew across his face, "Arthur! I'm so happy to see you! How are you and the baby doing?"

His voice still carried that childish innocence… and like an old stone the ocean beats against, a little more of Arthur was worn away.

When would his Alfred be returning?

How long was he going to keep the Englishman waiting?

"Oh, we're doing fine, love," Arthur moved towards the American and placed his hand to Alfred's bandaged head, brushing his bangs back. "More importantly, how are you feeling?"

"I feel… funny. I know I should be remembering something but I just can't- it's hard to explain," Alfred replied, his gaze shifting back to the window. "I'm missing something, I know I am."

"I'm sure it'll come to you soon enough," Arthur's voice was full of lost hope.

Alfred only nodded, continuing to be distracted by the outside activity.

"Happy birthday, love," Arthur murmured in the silence.

"Birthday?" Alfred's head tilted to the side. "Today's my birthday?"

"Yes. It's July 4th," Arthur answered.

"Maybe that's what I forgot… I don't think it is though…" Alfred hummed in thought and then smiled. "But thank you. Do you… know how old I am?"

"Twenty-two," Arthur replied.

Alfred nodded again as a pink flush tainted his cheeks, obviously embarrassed that he couldn't remember his birthday or his own age for that matter. He was… a little disappointed in himself to say the least. He hadn't been able to recall much of anything- the fight with Matthew had vanished along with many other events that happened that day.

But he couldn't forget Arthur.

That man had become his whole world, his entire purpose for living with him being in such a befuddled state of mind. Arthur was invaluable.

Alfred then placed his head gently against the Englishman's bulging stomach and took comfort when he felt the baby kick. Alfred sighed in content. Without him knowing it, he had missed Arthur and the baby. He felt like he hadn't seen them a very long time and he desired nothing more than to simply sit with them and enjoy their company.

"Alfred, love, are you all right?" Arthur asked, thoroughly concerned.

"I'm okay," Alfred sighed again, lighter this time and hummed a tuneless lullaby to the baby.

"Alfred, don't try to hide from me," Arthur reprimanded, sounding a bit frustrated.

"We're not playing hide-and-seek, are we?" Alfred flicked his eyes up to Arthur's, showing that there was no sarcasm intended.

The tea lover didn't know what else to do other than keep running his fingers through Alfred's hair, finding that they both took comfort in the gesture. Alfred drew tiny circle patterns on Arthur's stomach with his forefinger and resumed humming.

The sun's rays glittered into the window, shining its light on the small collapsing family.

"Arthur?" Alfred stared at the wall absentmindedly.

"Yes?"

"Are you happy?"

"Of course I am," Arthur replied after a few moments. "Why do you ask?"

"Because of everything that's happened; I was just curious. You looked so sad," was Alfred's answer and sniffled a bit. "Your boyfriend is gone and I can't remember anything and you're having a baby."

"As long as you're here with me, I'm happy. Now listen, it's your birthday. There's no need to be so glum. You should be happy. You only turn twenty-two once," Arthur placed his hand on Alfred's face so the latter could look at him and smiled. "The others will be here later on today so you can't be upset."

Alfred nodded with a sullen smile.

* * *

><p>"<em>Mon dieu, <em>he's awake," Francis exclaimed quietly as he entered the room.

Alfred grinned upon seeing the Frenchman but it disappeared as soon as he noticed someone was missing.

Matthew.

Where was he?

"Francis, where is Matthew? Isn't he supposed to be with you? He didn't get lost, did he?" Alfred questioned, looking around as if the Canadian would appear at any second.

Francis blinked twice. Did the American really remember nothing of what happened?

Arthur shot Francis a glance that said not to bring up Matthew's true whereabouts and the Frenchman kindly obliged, wanting this both easier on Alfred and himself, "He got caught up in some other business in his home country and is sorry he couldn't make it. But he wishes you a happy birthday."

"Ohh," Alfred said with sad understanding.

He really wanted his brother to be there.

It just wasn't the same.

The others arrived closer to noon, finding the news of Alfred's sudden awakening shocking.

He was supposed to be in a coma, wasn't he?

"Ve~, Alfred, Ludwig and I baked you a cake!" Feliciano announced happily, pointing towards the table where said cake that was decorated like the American flag had been placed without Alfred's notice. Lovino snickered quietly at the thought of Ludwig baking a cake.

"You didn't have to do that, guys," Alfred stumbled a bit over his words.

"Sure we did! What's a birthday without a cake~?" Feliciano smiled.

Well, the Italian _did _have a point…

"Thanks," Alfred smiled.

Feliciano nodded and placed the cake in Alfred's lap and clapped cheerfully once lighting the numbered candles, "Which means it's time to sing happy birthday~!"

Alfred blushed a little but kept his smile as those in the room sang to him in their own language. It was very off-key but carried the same meaning nonetheless.

"Make a wish, love," Arthur encouraged and in turn, Alfred closed his eyes, wishing with all his might.

_I wish that Arthur wasn't sad anymore and that I could make him happy._

The American opened his eyes and blew out the candles in a single breath, earning claps from his visitors.

"Thanks for coming, guys. It means a lot," Alfred glanced around at everyone.

"But we haven't even given you your present!" Antonio smiled, reaching into a bag that he had placed by the door.

"A present?" Alfred's eyes lit up, straining to see what was in the bag. "You got me a present?"

"_Si, _you deserve it," Antonio pulled out the gift and showed it to the American.

Alfred's eyes widened a fraction before there was a grin and small laugh escaping his lips. His bomber jacket was in Antonio's hands. He didn't know why but he felt as if he had lost it or that it had been damaged beyond repair. A strange sense of relief washed over him when Antonio draped it across his shoulders.

"T-Thanks!" Alfred grinned.

* * *

><p>As Alfred slept that night, using his bomber jacket as another blanket, Arthur watched him fondly and looked back at the four men still lingering in the room, "Thank you, Antonio. You don't know how much that meant to him."<p>

"It was the least I could do. I was the one who ruined it after all," Antonio gave a carefree wave and moved to wake up his lover who was sleeping with Feliciano leaning on his shoulder. "Well, we'd better get going. We had a good time, Arthur and we wish you both the best of luck."

"Thank you."

The two couples exited, leaving Arthur and Alfred alone once more. The Englishman placed his hand to his stomach began a flutter of kicks in an attempt to calm it.

"Don't worry," he said to it. "Your father will be all right. Everything is going to be fine."

However, when Arthur returned the next day, his American lover had slipped into the darkness again.

* * *

><p><strong>So, after this, Alfred goes back into his coma and doesn't wake up until the... 11th chapter, I'm guessing? Curse me and my bad memory.<strong>

**Anyway, I hope you enjoyed and I apologize for those who are waiting on the next chapter of _Clarity. _I'm lacking motivation.**

**Thanks for reading! Reviews are love!**

**Hasta la Pasta~!**


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